


Songs of Metal and Sparks

by EbonyAura



Series: Metal: Cybertron's Rock and Roll [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Character Development, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Physical Abuse, Rock and Roll AU, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-02 22:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 58,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15805491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyAura/pseuds/EbonyAura
Summary: Imagine the Transformers Prime universe where war is nonexistent, and instead of the Autobot and Decepticon factions, it's the Autobot and Decepticon rock bands.Imagine that Megatron is the lead singer of the Decepticons, Starscream and Knockout are back-up singers on electric guitar, Soundwave is the keyboard specialist, and Breakdown is the band's drummer. Imagine that they started as a small band in Kaon, but after Megatronus and his band made local headlines as "The Gladiators of Rock and Roll," they became famous.Imagine that Optimus Prime is the lead singer of the Autobots, with Ratchet as a main back up singer, Arcee and Bumblebee on electric guitar, and Bulkhead on drums. Imagine that Optimus was once a religious singer in Iacon, but after a life-changing event, converted to rock and roll, quickly gaining popularity with his new band.Imagine that both bands are nearly world famous, yet have no idea the other exists.Imagine that Cybertron's festival of music is approaching, and with it, the chance for a lucky upcoming band to go on a world tour.Imagine that both bands, ecstatic for the chance to finally reach world fame, are going to the festival.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do NOT own any of the songs that will be quoted or the characters that will be within this story, they are the property of their respective owners!
> 
> This story will be updated randomly, and WILL be finished within the next month or so. If it is worthy of a sequel, please leave me a comment. Otherwise, enjoy!

_"... This is Metal, Cybertron's one and only radio station for rock and roll! I'm Banger, and thank you for joining me as we broadcast live from the setting of the biggest music festival in the world, which is set to begin next cycle! Join me as we explore this once in a life cycle event..."_

The radio puttered from speakers dotting the inside of the bus, but it was promptly ignored by its inhabitants. Well, most of them.

"Guys can you believe it?! We're going to Music Fest!!"

Whoops and hollers followed Bulkhead's exclamation as the excitement buzzed through the air.

"And this isn't the seventh time in the past three groons which you've said that?"

Ratchet, their resident old grump of a bot, sounded exasperated. But a small grin peeked from his drawn faceplates and rigid posture. Arcee, whom sat right next to him, shoved his shoulder strut in a playful manner.

"Come on Doc, loosen up! He's got the right to be excited."

"My name is not Doc!"

Ratchet huffed, hearing the snickers from the other members of the band. Apparently, taking crash courses in first aid and being the 'caretaker' of the band meant that he was now the doc-bot. But it was meant lightly as their own inside joke, and he couldn't deny them that.

Bumblebee, the youngest of the group and sitting across from the doc-bot on the couch, watched out the window quietly. Bulkhead noticed his door wings occasionally twitch. He nudged him.

"How 'bout you Bee? You excited?"

Said black and yellow bot looked up at their drummer and shared a quiet smile with a shrug.

"I just can't wait to see Smoky. Haven't seen him all orbital cycle."

Bulkhead chuckled at that, patting him on the back strut.

"Hey, don't worry Bee, he'll be there. He'll probably be the first bot we see when we get off the bus! Besides Jackie, of course."

He added as an afterthought.

"And Cliff."

Arcee piped in.

"And Fowler, and his comm link."

Everyone laughed. Agent Fowler, the one and only agent of the Autobot band. His nickname was the bot sitter. He was also the most annoying individual they ever had the opportunity to know, and they knew a lot of fans. Knowing him, they inferred that he was probably pacing back and fourth in front of their parking space with his comm link running a million miles a nanosecond.

Arcee took the comic relief to stand up and stretch, curling her arms over her helm.

"Anyone up for some energon? I'm headed for the pantry."

Bumblebee politely declined, turning back to the window, while Bulkhead and Ratchet shook their helms. The femme turned towards the bunks in the back of the bus.

"Optimus? You want anything?"

A moment of silence followed that brought everyone's helms to turn in the same direction.

"I'm fine, thank you."

Came the quiet answer. Ratchet's lip plates lifted into a smirk and he rolled his optics at the bunks.

"Brooding _again_ , Optimus?"

"I'm not brooding, Ratchet."

The even tone used to retort the doc-bot told the others that he was telling the truth, but Ratchet knew their lead singer a little bit better than the others. So as Arcee made her way up to the front where the pantry cabinet stood, he hefted himself off the couch and made his way back towards the bunks. He found the Prime on the lower bunk, sitting up against the far wall with his leg struts drawn up to hold a blank datapad in his lap. The digits of one servo tapped against the screen lightly while the other curled in front of his lip plates in a loose fist. The Prime's optics stared at the datapad in deep thought. Ratchet's smirk softened as he sat at the end of the berth.

"Still having trouble with the new song?"

Optimus hummed a 'mhmm,' optics never leaving the pad. Ratchet sighed and reached forward, gently plucking it out of his lap, turning it off, and setting it aside.

"You need to take a break. Lyrics won't appear on the screen if you're staring at it."

The doc-bot got a sigh in response as the Prime pushed himself up to sit properly, the servo by his intake running over his worn faceplates.

"Agent Fowler has made it clear that one of our performances at the Festival must include a newly written song. It's only seven cycles away and I've yet to process a single decent lyric."

It was Ratchet's turn to hum, watching as Optimus turned his gaze out to the passing highway.

"You're overwhelming yourself. Seven cycles isn't as short as you believe it is; you'll have time between performances to write, the festival is sure to bring some inspiration. Besides, you could always ask for our help."

The Prime turned back to meet Ratchet's optics.

"I do not disagree with you Ratchet. It's just that, you all have been looking forward to the festival, and the others' partners will be joining us as well. I would rather not burden you all with matters of the new song."

 _Of course this would be your answer. Always thinking of the band before yourself._ Ratchet smiled to himself and shook his helm.

"I remember a time when a new song was never a burden on you, and you could've sung all night long to silence your demons."

The doc-bot's smile was suddenly shared by the Prime as they both shared a fond moment of memories. Back when the band first started, and a young Orion's sweet voice found a depth and power he'd never known before. Back when music that drowned out the world resonated so deeply within his spark, and they all came together to share that with others. Back when deadlines, world tours, and impressing others didn't matter. Now, that's all that his life seemed to revolve around.

Ratchet took the moment to place his servo over the Prime's, drawing his attention.

"The Festival is a time for all of us to enjoy, not just the band... I think it's about time you took the chance to find yourself again, Optimus. How about when you and I get there, we'll find the Golden Age booths? Find the vintage high grade, look for the art of the Archives, perhaps flirt with a few unsuspecting mecha? It's been a few millennium, and I may not be a young spark anymore, but you're sure to catch the optic of a few dashing steeds. What do you say?"

He'd said the last part with such sass that Optimus couldn't help but chuckle. Indeed, they were both gaining age, but the prospect of some long-needed fun at a music festival was helping his worn spark to feel a bit younger. Flipping his servo up to grasp at Ratchet's, he nodded gratefully.

"Thank you, my old friend."

Ratchet's smile was spark felt, before he disengaged and stood up.

"Now, will you join us? I believe there's a few rust sticks still left in the pantry."

The prospect was quick to grab his attention, and he followed the doc-bot without a word.


	2. Chapter 2

_Oh frag it all! This is pointless!_

Frustration and an oncoming processor ache aided in Megatron's resolve to toss the datapad away and climb out of the bunk he'd retreated to for some quiet. All that got him was two groons of staring at a blank screen, imagining all the ways his agent could die, and a deadline looming in his vision. Silas could shove that new song up his afterburner for all Megatron cared right now. He needed a break.

Standing up to stretch and walk his unused leg struts, he found the rest of the band. Soundwave sat by the far window, running his digits over Laserbeak's wings. Knockout lay propped up against Breakdown's bulky chest plates, both of them in recharge and taking up the entire couch, nothing out of the ordinary. Starscream sat across from them with his usual disgruntled expression, tuning one of his many guitars.

The road from Kaon had been long and arduous since the music festival was on the complete other side of the globe in Praxus, a prospect none of them were eager to face but would endure anyway. They'd been waiting too long for the chance to become world-known, able to abandon the humble origins that many mecha disrespected them for.

The Decepticons would put Kaon on the maps, no matter what it took.

"Oh, Megatron! Come join us! The song's done already?"

It was almost scary how quickly Starscream's expression could change to a charming one. The band's lead singer fought the urge to roll his optics, begrudgingly accepting the seat offered as the seeker moved himself and the guitar over on the couch.

"I have made as much progress on that pit-forsaken song as this bus has going in reverse."

He grumbled, putting his elbow joints on his knees and rubbing his temples with clawed digits to stop the dull ache.

"You still have about a week to complete it, correct? That'll be plenty of time, Megatron, you'll see."

The thought would've been reassuring if it hadn't come from the screechy seeker. If only he knew what Silas put his audials through when the band wasn't around. He'd made it more than clear to Megatron that he had a deadline, and he was going to meet it. There was no other option.

_"I'm tellin' you that it's never that bad. Take it from someone who's been where you're at... I will face everything and rise! Never gonna quit until I die!"_

Sound clips from two different songs brought their attention to Soundwave, whose blank face screen was pointed at Megatron. He gave a nod, which Megatron smirked at. In other words, cheer up, you've got better things to do than complain.

"... Damn you all to the pits, can't you be any quieter?"

Knockout mumbled darkly, pushing himself off his bonded's chest plates and effectively waking him up as well. Starscream smirked and leaned back against the head of the couch.

"Well, you can't expect us to understand the importance of beauty sleep, Knockout. Some of us don't need it to be gorgeous, like me, I just come that way."

The cherry red singer growled, optics narrowed into a murderous glare at the seeker as his sharp digits curled like claws.

"Why don't you come here so I could _tune up_ that paint job of yours..."

"Knocky, don't listen to him, you know he's just trying to ruffle your plating."

Breakdown was suddenly up and right behind his bonded, rubbing his digits soothingly up and down his sides and purring. The last time Starscream and Knockout got into a fight, they both needed to be driven to the nearest medical facility. It wasn't fun for anyone involved.

"Besides, he's got a point. You don't need beauty sleep to be gorgeous. You just are."

Knockout's stiff body relaxed at the compliment, and he turned back to his bulky partner with a smile.

"Thank you babe."

They kissed, and Starscream sneered. Megatron respectfully, if not a little too quickly, looked away.

"Must you always engage in such disgusting displays of public affection?"

The bonded pair looked up at the seeker with evil expressions.

"Oh, we can do better demonstrations."

Megatron took that as his cue to leave as Starscream's famous screech nearly blew out the inside of the bus. Soundwave didn't look up from Laserbeak as his friend sat beside him, but the minicon chirped at the newest arrival for attention, which he gave in near absentmindedness. The faceless screen tipped towards him.

"What troubles you, Megatronus?"

The mech whispered, receiving a near huff of amusement at the use of the old designation. Because Soundwave knew it wasn't just the deadline that was bothering him.

"I feel... Worn thin and dull, like an old blade."

This time Soundwave's helm turned to fully face Megatron, whom stroked the minicon's wings with a practiced gentle claw.

"It seems so long ago we brought this band together in the Pits, a time when we all relished in the freedom from life music gave us... Now all I have to look forward to is the endless road trips, ridiculous deadlines, and a few nights in between to live up to everyone's expectations."

Silence followed his declaration as both mechs fell deep in thought. Soundwave's screen still faced him evenly.

"You have forgotten your purpose as a Decepticon."

It was a simple way of putting it, but it was correct. Megatron couldn't help the shame that dripped into his spark.

"Do you still wish to perform at the festival?"

Megatron immediately nodded.

"Of course. This is our chance at a world tour, what we've worked for since the beginning. I cannot falter over my own self crisis when we stand so close."

Soundwave nodded once in understanding, he had a point. But the concern for his friend's mental well-being swirled in his spark.

"... Perhaps this festival will be good for me. The historical booths, the treasures yet preserved, the mecha we've yet to meet, the music we've yet to hear; it may provide opportunities for self discovery."

"Clarification: treasures yet preserved being high grade and ancient rock records."

A hearty laugh was drawn from the grey mech as Soundwave's shoulders shook, his silent way of laughing.

"Ah, but who are you to call the golden age rock records old, my friend? They are the best!"


	3. Chapter 3

"Motormaster, I don't believe our destination is for another few miles after this town. Why have we stopped?"

The tour bus's field echoed confusion to match its current inhabitants.

"There was a mech outside flagging me down... Three mecha, actually. Do you know them?"

Bumblebee's doorwings suddenly perched high at attention, and he ran to the window. He gasped.

"... Smoky?!"

The others ran to the window. Sure enough, there stood Smokescreen, standing in front of what looked like the town's tavern, waving happily at Bumblebee. And next to him, stood two more mecha that were quickly recognized.

"Jackie!!"

"Cliff!"

Optimus and Ratchet could only jump out of the way as the other three sprinted off the bus and barreled into their respective partners. Optimus smiled as Bulkhead picked up Wheeljack in a strut-crushing hug and Arcee toppled Cliffjumper to the ground. Bumblebee's wings fluttered as Smokescreen nuzzled his faceplates.

"Well, I suppose now's a good time to stop as any."

The doc-bot pushed himself off the wall he'd pressed himself into and nudged the Prime's arm strut.

"Come on Optimus, no use hiding out with Motormaster. May as well get some decent high grade before we have to face Fowler."

Ratchet left before Optimus could object, and Motormaster chuckled around him.

"Doc- bot's right, Optimus. Go in with the others, I'll head on to meet with Fowler and explain the situation, and I'll be back within a few groons."

_Even Motormaster thinks I'm overwhelmed._ He knew what he should've said, but the offer was too good to refuse.

"Thank you, Motormaster. We will see you in a few groons."

He patted the wall to show his appreciation, then stepped out of the living area and off the bus. Motormaster honked and flashed a headlight at the band before he drove away.

"Hey where's Motor rollin'?"

Bulkhead exclaimed. Optimus turned to him.

"He's going ahead to the festival to explain the situation to Agent Fowler. He'll be back in a few groons."

"Well then that gives us plenty of time to catch up, don't you think?"

Smokescreen said jovially, making his partner's doorwings flutter again.

"Pit yeah! Let's go guys!"

Everyone whooped and hollered as they marched up to the Tavern, leaving Optimus to trail behind with a soft smile and a shake of his helm. _What would he do without them?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know. Please don't kill me. The next one will be a much longer chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Frenzy won't kiss my friend, Elita._

_Chromia won't play ball._

_Blitzy won't share his friend, Perceptor._

_Doesn't anybody live at all?_

_Moonracer won't leave me, empty-servoed._

_Got her comm from the washrack stall._

_Beta's just got way too much baggage_

_and that scrap just gets old._

_But I got a bot who can put on a show!_

_The credit decides how far you can go..."_

 

"You all listen to this pit-forsaken scrap called music?!"

The doc-bot shouted over the booming music at the rest of the band and their partners circled at the edge of the bar. Except for Arcee. She and Cliffjumper were currently nowhere to be seen.

"It's called modern rock, doc! You guys sing it!"

Smokescreen called out in reply, servos propped too low on Bumblebee's hips to be innocent as they both swayed to the beat. Ratchet crossed his arms over his chest plates and glared indignantly at the young bot.

"We sing nothing close to this filth of an excuse for rock! It's absurd!"

Bumblebee spun in his partner's arms to wrap his arms around the racer's shoulders. Smokescreen purred in a low tone before his optics came back up to Ratchet.

"You're too tightly wound, Ratch! You'd appreciate this song better if you had someone to dirty talk you too!"

Said mech sputtered indignantly in response as Bee pulled himself out of his partner's arms to grab him by the servo and pull him towards the dance floor.

"Come on Smoky! Come dance with me!"

As the pair left Ratchet behind with curses on his glossa, Bulkhead watched them go with a twinkle in his optic.

"Jackie?"

"With pleasure, Bulk."

Then they disappeared into the crowd. Arcee and Cliffjumper were long gone. It left Optimus and Ratchet sitting at the bar with high grade in each servo. The doc-bot took the opportunity to growl at the dancing bots.

"Chemical hormone-driven younglings."

The Prime smiled lightly at him as he sipped at his cube.

"They are at the coming of age, Ratchet."

Said mech was nowhere near tamed by this previous knowledge.

"That does not give them any excuse to be so vulgar and crude to an elder! Back in our day, we would've had our voice boxes manually shut down if we did such a thing!"

Optimus laughed to himself at his friend's loss of temper. Yes, it was true and yes, he would agree Smokescreen's actions were at best questionable. But they were having fun, and he made Bumblebee happy. Who was he to interfere?

"... Are you even listening to me?"

He recycled his optics, turning towards the orange and white bot, who was giving him a deadpanned look.

"My apologies, old friend, I was lost in thought. What were you saying?"

Ratchet was about to answer with a snap, until the song changed and he sighed in relief.

"Thank the All spark! Not another porn song!"

"Ratchet come on! Come dance with us!"

Both mecha at the bar spun around quickly at the sudden appearance of Arcee and Cliffjumper. They both looked overcharged and happy, wanting doc-bot to join in on the fun.

"Where did you both come from?!"

"Come on Ratchet!!"

The doc-bot was helpless to argue as he was promptly dragged out of his seat and into the crowd. He only got one good glare at the Prime, whom responded with a quiet shrug and grin, before he too disappeared.

Optimus was left with his high grade and the silent question of what time it was. His chronometer blinked that it was about two groons after sundown. Motormaster was sure to be waiting outside for them, hopefully not with a certain agent in tow, but that was up for interpretation. If Fowler was in tow, he would've come into the tavern and dragged each of them out individually. He almost couldn't hide the groan that came with the thought of their agent, instead drowning the thought out with a long swig of his cube. The warm, fuzzy haze that began to cloud his processor was worth it, but it wasn't nearly enough to banish his logic circuits screaming at him that he had a deadline, and this wasn't helping.

_To the Pit with it._

Setting down his cube, he opted to distract himself with the crowd dancing around him. His band was far from view, probably deep in the dance floor of the tavern, but the bots he did see were interesting enough. _They all must be here for the festival as well._ Not all of them were Praxinians, recognized by their waving doorwings and slender builds. A few here and there seemed to be from the outer regions of the Sea of Rust, if the eccentric paint jobs and dance moves were anything to go by. He found one pair of Tarnians, similar to Kaonians except for their fancier frame upgrades. There were no Iaconians as far as he could see, much to his relief to not be recognized, and there was one Kaon local, sitting a few seats down from him at the bar.

_... Wait a klik._

Recycling his optics to be sure the haze of the high grade wasn't affecting them, Optimus turned his helm back towards the Kaonian to do a double take. Sure enough, the high grade wasn't trying to fool him. The mech actually was _that tall_. Taller than him! The height of this mech was graced with a broad silver chest that gleamed, and wide shoulders that curled up into spikes. Optics traveling back down, that silver chest was adorned by sturdy abdominal plating, followed by thighs nearly as wide as his arm struts, and enormous peds that could probably crush right through a mech's armor... His tank guttered on the high grade it processed. If there was ever a dashing steed, as Ratchet had called them, this was the one. He reminded him of the gladiators from the historical texts he liked to read. A true Kaon mech.

Slowly, optics still blown wide, he turned back to stare at his high grade. His processor had screeched to a grinding halt, and the high grade wasn't helping him to think straight. He manually shut off his voice box to stop the less than dignified sound building in his intake. By the all spark, when was the last time a mech had left him swooning so dramatically? Too long apparently, he felt like a youngling! His first reaction was to call Ratchet for help, but he slowly dismissed that possibility. His friend had probably shut off his comm link for the night, and even if it was on, the interference from the noise of the crowd would make it impossible to hear. He was on his own. All alone. With one of the most attractive bots he'd ever seen sitting only a few seats down.

Daring to hope to steal another glance of the Kaonian, Optimus recycled his optics once more and slowly turned his helm back in that direction. What he met was a pair of striking, deep red optics belonging to the handsome face of the same grey mech, staring right back at him. His optics flew wide again and he immediately averted his gaze to the bar, wanting to wilt in on himself. _Well, this just grew awkward._ He was definitely out of practice in affairs of the spark. Perhaps if he just didn't move and refrained from staring, the mech would brush it off and his mistake could be forgotten--

"Pardon me?"

_By Primus, where did that voice come from...?_

The voice was deep, strong, and held much power in its depth. But its owner reigned it to a gentle tone that brought out an accented rasp. Turning to meet it, Optimus found himself once again staring up into red optics.

_By the fragging son of Primus--!!_

"Is this seat taken?"

Long silver claws motioned towards the stool Ratchet had once been sitting in, now vacant. He was still trying to process how he'd missed this mech rising and walking over to him to stand only a few peds away. Making every effort to clear his optics of the dumbfounded gaze they'd taken, he managed to shake his helm and online his voice box.

"No, you may sit there."

As the Kaonian nodded and gracefully took the stool, Optimus prayed to Primus for the first time in many orbital cycles. He prayed that he may survive this encounter without his spark giving out. Which was ironic, considering what he did for a living.

"If I may inquire..."

The Prime's attention was immediately drawn back to the mech, whom watched him with curious optics.

"What might a mech like you be doing all alone at the bar?"

He chuckled, if not a bit nervously, at the question. No matter how attractive a mech might be, he was still a stranger. And unless Optimus was wrong, this was usually the way the conversations started before an unsuspecting mech was drugged and dragged into the night to be raped or murdered. Not an outcome he was looking forward to, to say the least. But Optimus was created an honest mech, and his spark refused to believe that this mech was anything to be afraid of. Then again, his spark was probably of biased opinion.

"... I've been told that I tend to overwork myself. And that I need to learn to relax."

The Prime glanced out at the crowd, not finding any glimpses of his band, and returned his optics back to the stranger. Well, he was alone. No turning back now.

"I'm not very good at that, as you see."

The Kaonian nodded, humming thoughtfully as he picked up his own cube of high grade.

"Neither am I."

He sipped at the cube, and Optimus had to fight to not stare. That was not a response he was expecting. But it didn't seem all that bad. Optics falling to the bar counter beneath him, he decided to take another chance.

"I'm... not much inclined to the music choice, either."

Optimus didn't see when the grey mech looked at him again, but he could feel the gaze of those red optics as they turned to him, then turned back to stare at the back of the bar.

"Indeed. This 'modern rock' as they call it does not resemble anything close to true rock and roll. Not from the Golden Ages, at least."

_The Golden Ages..._ His spark stilled in its casing. There were few mecha, few and far between, whom he'd ever heard speak of music from the Golden Ages in such light. Ratchet was one of them. He didn't know any others personally. Except for perhaps, this mech...? He cleared his intake to speak again.

"You hold a fair point. The Golden Ages produced some of the greatest music in our history, especially rock and roll, in my opinion. It's a shame such music has been so quickly forgotten by the general public."

The Kaonian's optics glided sideways to glance at him. Was it just the perspective that gave the ceiling lights a glare, or had his optics truly brightened? The curiosity within them seemed to have perked.

"A fellow admirer of the Golden Rock and Roll, are you? And just what might your interests be from that time period, if I may inquire?"

_Fellow admirer?_ Optimus shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, when the reality was that for the first time in a long time, his spark started pounding in its casing.

"I follow the more popular bands of that era; the Metal Clones, Throttles on the Freeway, Chromedome..."

With each name he listed off, the grey mech's lip plates started to curl up into a smile, appreciative of each band. He nodded with a newfound respect.

"You have good taste, my friend. Do you follow the Junkions or Defenders of the Rust?"

Optimus nodded eagerly, the excitement becoming harder to control.

"I admire both. Though my favorites would have to be Grimlock and the Dinobots, and the king of Rock and Roll,"

"Alpha Trion!"

"Alpha Trion!"

They near shouted at the same time, sharing pleasantly surprised smiles.

"Favorite album?"

The grey mech suddenly asked him.

"Saber of the Stars."

He answered just as quickly.

Sharp silver denta met his gaze as Optimus realized the mech before him was smiling like an idiot. Though who was he to comment? The ecstatic pounding of his spark told him he must look like a smiling moron too. They both must've thought about it at the same time, because they burst out laughing. It was deep, guttural, and shook their frames enough that Optimus had to grab onto the bar counter to stay upright on his stool. When was the last time he laughed like that?

It must've been a long time.

When their laughter subsided, after the bar tender looked at them and quickly dispersed at the scene, the grey mech held out his clawed servo in a formal greeting.

"Tron of Kaon."

_Isn't that rather poetic?_ Optimus dispelled the thought, even if he found it fascinating.

"Orion of Iacon."

Using his alias from habit in the face of a mech who didn't know him, the Prime took Tron's outstretched servo and they shook once.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, Orion. I am not usually so fortunate in making the acquaintance of a mech who shares my taste in music."

"Neither am I, Tron of Kaon."

Said mech's smile was reigned into something much more understanding, before he took his cube and raised it between the two of them.

"Well then, may this be the start of an old-fashioned, yet well picked friendship that will last for many orbital cycles to come."

Optimus laughed. _Ratchet would be disappointed in you._ His processor seemed to chide him. But it was easy enough to ignore as he raised his own cube and they clinked together before throwing back the rest of his high grade. _A good friend is hard to come by these cycles._


	5. Chapter 5

The night cycle was cool and quiet as he walked along the side of the highway, a welcome change from the heated and rambunctious crowd the tavern had become. And it was spark-warming how worried Orion seemed to be over the new dent in his right shoulder.

"Are you sure you don't want me to contact the nearest medical clinic, Tron? That was a really hard hit..."

_Orion will worry over others long before he would himself..._ Compared to Kaon, it had been next to nothing. Besides, the Tarnian that had put the dent there hadn't done it on purpose. He'd gotten into a fight with what looked like a Praxinian and had been flung backwards towards the bar. It was just by luck that he'd been heading right for Orion, and Orion hadn't noticed until it was too late. Megatron had, though. And he didn't appreciate someone nearly crushing his new friend. So he put himself between them, simple as that. Afterward, when all Pit broke loose, they decided it was a good time to take a walk.

Raising a servo to put his worries to ease, Megatron shook his helm.

"I will be fine, my friend. If it were a tavern in Kaon, I would agree to the concern. I would be lucky to walk out of one with my limbs still attached."

He laughed while he said it, it brought back fond memories. Orion chuckled as well, but it didn't meet his optics.

"Worrying it seems is what I'm most good at. You didn't have to do that, Tron..."

He paused in his steps, gazing down to meet those pulsing blue optics that he would probably never forget.

"Do not think so lowly of yourself Orion. I would've done so even if we had been in Kaon."

How could he not do so for a mech like Orion? From the first gaze in his direction, Megatron's dull spark had lit on fire and sizzled, a fire unlike he'd ever felt from it before. A fire much stronger than the one that lit when he performed. It scared him, yet it intrigued him. So, trying to act confident in the light of his sudden shyness, he met a mech that by now, he'd probably fallen helm over peds for.

The red and blue mech walking beside him didn't respond, his optics now turned forward as he stared at the road ahead. Megatron didn't like this sudden silence.

"Have I said something wrong?"

That got an immediate response. Orion jolted a bit and swung his helm around to stare at him in surprise before he shook his helm.

"No! You haven't said anything wrong! It's just..."

He trailed off. Megatron waited patiently.

"... I don't mean to think of myself so lowly, Tron. But with the direction my... career has taken me, I do so more often than I should."

The pause at the word 'career' was odd, but the grey mech brushed it off momentarily to focus on the sentence in its entirety.

"Do you not like the career you have chosen?"

Orion's helm tipped downward as he thought about the question, then wrapped his arm struts around his chest plates tightly as they walked. If Megatron didn't know any better, he would've thought it a gesture of insecurity.

"It's not that I don't like my career, it has brought me great joy over the orbital cycles... But recently, I've come to realize that I've forgotten why I do it."

_Well, doesn't that sound familiar._ Megatron frowned lightly as his friend continued.

"When I work, I don't seem to have the focus for it as I once did. I seem to always hit a roadblock, and it leaves me grappling to reach the deadlines. The mecha whom I work with, they... they've been with me since the beginning. We've worked together for so long to achieve what we are now. But I would be lying if I said I didn't envy how much they still enjoy it... And our boss is a complete aft who cares about nothing except the credits and the next deadline! He doesn't give a scrap's worth about the others and does nothing but drive me _crazy_!"

Megatron paused, recycling his optics and leaning back as Orion threw his servos up and snarled the last of his rant.

"So if there's any reason I don't even find joy in what I do anymore, it would be him! By Primus, I would walk out on _all of it_ , if this didn't mean so much to the others... But I can't let them down."

Orion sighed, signalling the end of his rant as one of his servos came up to rub at his faceplates. And Megatron watched with an aching spark, noticing how worn and aged the gesture made Orion look. _Worn thin and dull, like an old blade_... He set his servo upon the other's shoulder.

"I understand what you mean, Orion."

The mech seemed surprised as he peeked at the grey mech from above his servos.

"You do?"

Megatron nodded, shifting his gaze to the open road and the quiet night cycle.

"The mechs I work with and I, we all reside from Kaon. When we started our career, we were disrespected and ignored by many... But like the Pit we cared. There was a freedom found in what we did, and it brought joy to many mecha as well as ourselves. Our ultimate goal in what we do is to put Kaon on the maps, to give it the importance it once had so that our struggling economy might grow to thrive again."

"That is a noble quest to take, Tron."

Orion commented respectfully, to which Megatron hummed.

"Yes, I suppose so. And for a while, it was enough to fuel my drive... Now I know that it is not. And it has affected my ability to work as well. I don't know which paths to take, or which ideas to try. I second guess myself, an action which eats away at my spark... These long orbital cycles have aided the mechs I work with to be the best at what they do, yet they seem to have eroded me... And you're not the only one with a pit-spawned scrapheap for a boss."

The grumbled comment made his companion laugh, and somehow the lightness of the action aided in lifting the dark emotions that had settled on his spark from reciting his complicated life. When he turned back to Orion, said mech's arm struts had fallen to his sides and he gazed at him with a weary, but honest smile.

"I suppose then we are two of a kind, aren't we?"

He returned the smile with a nod.

"I suppose we are, Orion."

They fell into a comfortable silence as they walked, but the longer it lingered, the harder it was becoming to resist telling Orion the truth of his identity. How could he not? How could he lie to this mech who seemed to mirror his every step and very life? How could he lie to Orion? In truth, he hadn't, but what if he did tell him? What would his companion think of him if he knew his 'career' was actually being a rock star? It might shatter any understanding they might've come to, which scared him the most, but some deep part of his spark disagreed. It urged him to tell the truth, and to dig deeper into the question of who Orion might be...

"Orion, I--"

"Tron, I--"

They started simultaneously, surprising each other once again. Both mechs chuckled awkwardly before Megatron gestured to Orion.

"My apologies Orion, please go ahead."

"No, Tron, you go--"

"I insist, my friend. What were you going to say?"

Megatron was quick to hand off starting the conversation, if it meant he wouldn't have to decide whether or not to tell him. The red and blue mech didn't put up an argument after that, but his optics fell down to the road beneath their peds and searched as he seemed to try to find the next words he was about to say.

"Tron, I... You see... I..."

He trailed off repeatedly, having as much difficulty in what he would say as Megatron did. His optics scanned the ground a bit more desperately.

"... Will you be attending the music festival next cycle?"

The grey mech didn't know whether or not he should be suspicious of the question. Orion didn't know who he truly was, he should have no previous knowledge of his planned attendance. Then again, they knew each other's music interests now. Orion could've assumed it. That is, this whole suspicion danced around what he should remember is an innocent question. His companion probably had no idea and was asking out of hope they might see each other again, a hope he suddenly realized they shared.

"Yes, in fact, I will be in attendance of the entirety of the festival."

Orion's optics flashed with an emotion he couldn't name.

"I will be there for its entirety as well."

"You wish to meet there?"

Orion nodded. A hint of smile grew on Megatron's lip plates.

"I'll expect to see you at the Golden Age Booths."


	6. Chapter 6

"Whoa... That's a lot of tents."

"Well what'd you expect Bulk? A one band stage and a single circle of tents?"

"You're not helping, Jackie."

The conversation drifted over his audials as Optimus stared out of Motormaster's window. His chin rested on his arms on top of the back of the couch, and his frame twisted sideways to accommodate his long leg struts that stretched over the rest of the seat . The light of the late morning cycle showed endless rows of tents stretched into the horizon, big sections divided by small roads for each genre of music they stood for. There were five enormous stages dotting the Festival grounds, bigger than any stage they'd previously performed on. And according to Fowler, their performances would be on Stage 4, set in the Rock and Roll section of the Festival, along with at least thirty other bands who had been invited to perform for the chance to win the world tour.

Each section would have their own winner, the fans of each section would vote for their favorite performances, and the top two voted bands would be featured in an exclusive concert on the last day of the Festival to perform for a surprise judge, or so he was told.

"Hey guys! Check it out! It's us!"

Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Wheeljack and Ratchet gathered by Arcee and Cliffjumper at the front window to watch the nearest tent go by. At the front of a tent was a large screen with the five of them posed against a fiery colored background, and 'The Autobots' at the bottom in large black lettering. Ratchet's voice took on a small amount of awe.

"It's the cover for our new album."

"Hey! They made us look good!"

Bulkhead exclaimed. Wheeljack leaned against the Wrecker.

"I think my favorite bot is that green one all the way on top with the drums. He's pretty sexy--"

"Wheeljack!"

Bulkhead bonked him on the helm for the comment while his bonded laughed, everyone else rolled their optics. The Prime couldn't help a small snicker, the interaction between the pair causing him to think back to the tall Kaonian he'd met called Tron. It had to be the twenty-third time that morning. And it bothered him that he would meet up with the same bot again this cycle, yet would still have no idea who he was. He blamed it on his cowardice in not admitting the truth the night cycle before... His logic circuits could've laughed at him. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough problems already.

"Hey Optimus, they even included your black accents! You look incredible!"

Bumblebee complimented, bouncing up and down on his peds as he watched the screen pass by and then looked over at their bands lead singer. He stopped bouncing and his doorwings wilted.

"Optimus? You okay?"

Recycling his optics to push away the uncontrollable emotions he was sure had taken hold of them, the Prime turned his helm towards his young friend and gave him a small smile.

"Yes, Bumblebee. I am alright."

Ratchet looked up at the soft spoken reply, and the doc-bot and Bumblebee exchanged a look as their Prime returned to his earlier position. Then, the young bot smiled and fluttered his doorwings at Ratchet before he jumped on the couch beside Optimus. What finally took full hold of the Prime's attention was when Bee's light voice filled the bus.

_"Little one, there you are._

_All the lights are looking just like stars."_

His upper chassis turned away from the window and fully towards his young guitarist. The lyrics brought a loving smile to the Prime's faceplates, one of his songs from a long time ago when Bumblebee first joined the band. Bumblebee's song. When the lyric ended, his voice of low baritone began the next one.

_"Sing along, feel the sound._

_Take a ride on the servos of the crowd."_

Bumblebee's doorwings perked up. His radiantly cheerful nature was contagious to the Prime as they continued to the next lyric in their respective high and low keys.

_"Here it comes, the moment when,_

_you know you'll never be the same again._

_Power chord, see the light._

_You found your place in the world tonight."_

They finished with practiced harmony, and everyone else exchanged a quiet expression of contentment at the two. The young bot leaned against the tires on the Prime's lower leg struts.

"Cheer up, Optimus. It's Music Fest, and we're performing! We're going to have so much fun!"

Perhaps Bumblebee was not as young as he once was, but his enthusiasm was higher than ever. Some things never changed. And that was all Optimus could ask for when it came to their young guitarist, for him to be happy and to continue to love this life as much as he once did.

"Yes, Bumblebee. I believe we will."

"Sorry to interrupt, guys. But I think I should warn you..."

Motormaster's sudden intrusion brought them all to attention.

"What is it, Motormaster?"

"Fowler's coming on."

Everyone groaned. His smile faded and Optimus sighed as the bus came to a rolling stop and the front door hissed open.

"--the Autobots have six interviews and a performance scheduled that cycle! It's either this cycle, or you're not getting any interview!"

The short and rounded mech chattered away on his comm link as the bus rolled forward again. Everyone exchanged wary glances. Fowler suddenly growled.

"Look you con! It's either my way, or the highway! Now do you want this interview or not?"

Wheeljack mimicked with a pointed digit and a mean expression as he spoke. Bulkhead and Arcee had to fight to stay silent. One thing you never did was interrupt Agent Fowler during a call. Or else. Suddenly he leaned against the pantry with a satisfied expression.

"I'm glad you've changed your mind. It's been a pleasure doing business with you. We'll see you in one groon."

His digits tapped his right audial to end the call. Not even a few nanoseconds passed by before he whirled around to glare at the Autobots.

"Sundown! I told you all _specifically_ to be here by sundown last cycle! No stops! No distractions on the way! And what do you do? You stop on the homestretch to get overcharged and party at the nearest tavern?! I had to cancel two interviews because of you bots, including the Iacon Archive Reporter! Do you realize how important that interview was?!"

Each mech shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze, except Ratchet who met him head on with his own glare.

"Well, we're sorry that we can't live up to your expectations every time we turn around. But let us tell you, Agent Fowler, that we reminded you more than once and well in advance that the other band members' partners would be meeting us on the way here."

"I assumed that meant they would be here!! And let me guess, was it _Wheeljack's_ idea that you all go to the Tavern?"

The bot whirled back around on the Wrecker, who sat back against the couch with an unamused look leveled back as his servo worked at the too tense cables in Bulkhead's neck.

"Nope. That was all Smokescreen. You can yell at street racer when he gets here, he had business to take care of back in town."

"Hey! Leave Smoky out of it! You know he didn't start that fight!"

Bumblebee didn't realize his mistake until Fowler did his 'slow turn' towards him, and he wilted beside Optimus. Their agent's accusing digit was now pointed at him.

"Unless you manage to get that crude-mannered, youngling of a drag racer to behave himself; you can be sure that I'll have his aft shipped right back to Iacon and all contact between you two will be banned!"

"NO!"

Optimus immediately stood up and put himself between the two of them, refusing to let their Agent threaten Bumblebee anymore.

"Agent Fowler, you will not place the blame on any member or valued friend of the band besides myself. I told Motormaster to head onto the Festival so that he may explain the situation to you while the others spent long-awaited time with their partners. I take full responsibility, and apologize for the unfortunate turn of events."

Half of that statement was a lie. Motormaster, Ratchet, and Optimus all knew it. But they didn't comment. Fowler's arm struts crossed over his chest plating with a growl as his glare, now pointed at his lead singer, turned deadly.

"You are in no position to be taking the blame of your band's problems, Optimus. Not with your deadlines approaching. And oh, let me remind you that I received no updates throughout the entirety of the trip on the new song you will be performing this week. How's that coming?"

The Prime's digits twitched. It was the only immediate reaction to the retort, but Ratchet knew their agent had hit the right button to tear at his temper. Optimus silently cycled his vents to keep his composure before answering.

"It will be completed."

Agent Fowler huffed at the statement.

"It had better be, for your career's sake. This is your _only_ chance to get a world tour, and I will not see you blow it."

'You' and 'your.' It was always Optimus, it was never about the others. Fowler never cared about the band. His spark pulsed in hot anger.

"Sir, we've arrived at our designated parking area."

Fowler turned from Optimus as he threw a servo up in the air.

"Finally! Now then, we can get to business. You've got an interview with the Praxus Press in one groon, and your first performance on Stage 4 in two. I suggest you get your sorry afts over there to warm up. Got it?"

Their agent said not another word as he turned on his peds and walked off the bus. Bumblebee whirred somberly at Optimus, who gave him a reassuring smile in return. He could not falter. The others needed him.

"Autobots... Let's rock this Festival."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify:  
> Italicized words are thoughts.  
> Italicized quoted words are the characters singing.
> 
> Ok, enjoy.

"What do you mean it's not finished?! I expected it to be done cycles ago!"

Laserbeak squeaked at the tone Silas used and flew off his perch on Soundwave's shoulder to perch by Breakdown. Megatron was inclined to agree with the minicon.

"There have been complications in its drafting. It will be done by the end of the week."

Silas only arched a brow plate, not too quick to take that in stride.

"I've heard that excuse from you too many times in the past stellar cycle! Need I remind you that the future of the Decepticons rests in your performance at this Festival? Either you can win this world tour and gain the notice you need to keep performing, or you can blow it and spend the rest of your life cycles performing in the crumbling stages of Kaon!"

How a mech three ped lengths shorter than him could make himself tower over all of them, Megatron had no idea. He was more focus on deciding how to get away with his agent's murder... Releasing a vent and rolling his shoulder struts to ease away the growing tension, the lead singer of the Decepticons met Silas with an even gaze.

"You've made your point clear, Agent Silas. The new song will be finished by the end of the week, whether you believe my word or not. Now, I believe our performance is within the evening cycle, may we be excused to practice before then?"

The mech's glare turned monstrous, but after a klik it faded and he slithered away silently like the snake he was. Beside him, Soundwave only shook his helm when Silas was far enough away.

"Inquiry: Want Soundwave to assist in hiding the body?"

A low chuckle rumbled from the grey mech's chest.

"When that day comes, yes, it would be much appreciated."

Soundwave's shoulders shook again before silence stood between the two of them. Megatron sighed. This was already proving to be a long week, and he'd only just gotten there. It was torture enough listening to their agent's lecture about the Tavern and his sizable dent from the night cycle before. That didn't even count the red and blue mech that still took precedence at the front of his processor, making it hard to focus on much of anything. Just then, Soundwave turned to him.

"Offer: Megatronus take free groons available to begin searching the Festival... And find bot called Orion."

He smirked at that. Soundwave was the only other mech who knew of his encounter with Orion. After all, it was impossible to lie to him, and it helped that he approved of their next meeting. _Gives Megatron's spark purpose_ , or so he called it. He didn't know about that just yet, the red and blue mech didn't even know his true identity. But a mech could hope.

"Very well, Soundwave. You will remain here?"

The quiet mech nodded once.

"If Silas asks, you know what to do."

Another nod.

"I will return in two groons time, my friend."

With that statement, he was off, taking care to be quick in step away from their protected area and humble when he reached the tents.

Megatron was thankful for the fact that the first day of any festival wasn't as populated as the rest. Less of a chance of being recognized and chased down by oil-thirsty fans. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd have to make a run for it, but the prospect was rather embarrassing when thought about, and it drove him to press his back strut against the side of each tent and take care in glancing out at both directions before weaving through the maze.

The Rock and Roll section of the Festival seemed to go on for miles, marked by tents that sold enough merchandise to make a mech a hoarder. Some sold for one particular band, others sold a variety. But the challenge seemed to lay in finding the Golden Age Booths, they were nowhere to be found. As a groon passed, he began to wonder if he might ever find the red and blue mech. _I should've asked for his comm code._ He grumbled to himself. This wasn't going to be as exciting as they thought of it to be if they couldn't even find each other.

Another groon passed. He was only just starting to make some progress, the merchandise of the tents he approached for bands dating back half a millennium, when he knew he should start heading back the way he came. Megatron growled at his luck.

"Come on, hurry! We're going to miss their performance!"

Cursing, he ducked back behind the nearest tent as two bots were passing by. One seemed to be dragging the other.

"Don't loose your bolts, I'm coming! The Autobots probably aren't even on stage yet!"

"But what if they are? Come on! We can't miss them!"

The two bots ran down the small street, and Megatron sighed in relief. Over thirty rock bands would be here, and the first was performing in the high noon cycle. What kind of rock band would even schedule their performance this early in the daylight? The best time to perform was when the night cycle hit, any moron knew that. _Don't blame the band,_ _blame the idiot agent they probably have._ Silas was brought to mind as he turned and continued on his way down the side of the street, determined to at least fine one Golden Age booth before heading back.

**"Calling all bots! Are you ready to ROCK?"**

In the near distance, he could see Stage 4, and its announcing speaker echoed over the surrounding area followed by what could've been deafening cheers. _Huh, these Autobots_ _must be fairly popular._ Megatron didn't know them, but he didn't take too much care in the thought. Then he smirked. _Those two bots probably aren't even halfway there._

"Wait! Don't start without us!"

His optics momentarily widened from the voices right behind him, and he had no choice but to duck into the next tent to avoid discovery. He watched as about ten bots ran past at full speed towards the stage, like the other two he'd previously seen, not wanting to miss the upcoming performance. _Correction, they are popular._

"Trying to avoid discovery, are we, Megatron of the Decepticons?"

_Scrap!_

Megatron whirled around where he stood to stare down the bot who'd called him out, immediately thanking Primus that it wasn't his agent. Instead, it was the tent merchant, slouched back against a seat in the back corner looking up at him calmly. He thanked Primus again for the calm mannered reaction this bot seemed to have, not giving any indication to tell others he was here. He chuckled anxiously.

"You have no idea."

"Hmm, and just what might you be doing here?"

Deciding that the threat of other bots running by was too much to risk, he gave into temptation to remain here and gaze at the objects within the walls.

"I'm... looking for a friend of mine."

The merchant hummed again, leaning forward to organize small datapads that were stacked in front of him.

"Well, I've seen quite a few bots already. And I've got a good memory chip to beat for faces. What might this friend look like?"

The Decepticon singer seriously doubted that this merchant could help him. But at this point, he was grasping at anything that might improve his luck. So, he turned towards the merchant as his processor pulled up the fond memory of Orion.

"He's tall, only about a quarter ped shorter than myself,"

He raised his servo in a level position beside his shoulder to give the merchant a better physical description of the mech. The merchant watched him carefully.

"His main frame colors are red, silver, and blue. And his optics are a bright blue, _very_ bright. Goes by the designation of Ori—"

"Oh, you mean Optimus Prime?"

The merchant interrupted with clarity. Megatron stopped and recycled his optics.

"Who?"

This time the merchant recycled his optics, seemingly surprised that the singer did not know whom he was speaking of. Then, his servo pointed upwards at the wall behind him.

"Optimus Prime, lead singer of the Autobots. Is that who you speak of?"

His optics followed the pointed digit upwards to large screens hanging on the tent wall, cover posters for bands hanging side by side. The one he specifically pointed at hung just to the left of his own band's poster. It showed five mechs positioned with different instruments against a background of bleeding reds and oranges. At the top, a bulky green mech's arm struts were raised over his head, a drumstick in each servo. On each side below him, a young black and yellow mech and a blue and pink femme each held an electric guitar, digits posed in mid-strum of the strings. Near the bottom right corner, an orange and white mech held no instrument but smirked into a microphone as his optics looked out towards the screen's viewer. Finally, at the very bottom, standing tall and proud with pulsing blue optics above 'The Autobots' band name lettering in bold black, stood—

"Orion..."

The polite and soft-spoken mech he'd met the night cycle before was such a drastic difference from this mech in the poster, that he stood in denial of the fact his logic circuits were hammering into him.

"Megatron?"

The merchant's question ghosted over his audials, blatantly ignored in favor of his shock.

**"Femmes and Gentlemecha, make some noise for the outlaws of Iacon! Your world's about to be rocked, BY THE AUTOBOTS!"**

_The performance!_

In that moment, Megatron completely forgets every risk that came with public notice. His peds are already in motion, and only one glimpse of the surprised merchant is the last he sees of the tent as he sprints towards the stage he can see in the near distance. He's not a praying mech, but any coherent thought left in his processor is directed towards Primus as he prays that he's not too late. As he prays, like the first two bots, that the mech he seeks hasn't walked on stage yet to be lost in the crowds. _Because he has to know._ He has to confirm if what the merchant spoke was true, even if the truth still stared blatantly at him.

The cheers are deafening as he reaches the grounds of the stage, at least a thousand bots jumping and screaming at the music winding up in the distance. Not even slowing down, Megatron pushes through the edge of the crowd, getting startled shouts and flying curses in the process. But he's too large a mech for everyone to ignore, and they move out of his way as he barrels past. If anyone recognized him, he didn't notice.

Strumming of an electric guitar on the loud speakers, flicked by trained digits, stops him in his tracks. He's not even three quarters of the way through the crowd, but he can see the yellow and black paint of the young bot on the left side of the stage. The pounding bangs of a drum set's cymbals and tom-toms at full volume brings attention to the bulky green bot at the top of the stage on drum set. The guitar grows yet _louder_ as the blue and pink femme from the poster joins in. And from the darkness of the back of center stage emerges the tall, imposing, and fearless presence of Optimus Prime. His red shoulder and arm strut armor is streaked in jagged black stripes that stretch and curl down to his blue peds. A trait he'd seen from the poster but hadn't noticed until now.

With long strides to the front that he could almost _feel_ shaking the stage, Optimus Prime grasped the microphone stand and planted his peds at shoulder width. Not once did his near feral optics leave the crowd as he began to sing.

_"Head lights, red lights,_   
_got it in my sights, nothings in my way."_

The ability to intake air left Megatron in an instant. The singer's vocals were low, low enough to match his own baritone key. But unlike him, it didn't need to demand power. _It_ _was power._ As it fell over the crowd, they screamed and cried in exhilaration, falling into the spell it was casting over all of them. But it was unmistakably, undeniably... Orion.

_No, Optimus Prime._

_"No sound, hush now._   
_Push the pedal down, got no time to waste."_

One of his servos grasping the metal rod of the microphone stand suddenly came up, and he pressed a single digit against his lip plates, in rhythm and in action with the lyrics. Like every great rock artist Megatron had ever heard, Optimus had begun to tell a story. All he could do was listen.

_"It's a long way home, you just crossed a borderline._   
_When I say go, you know you better hold on tight..."_

A second, slightly higher pitched vocal key joined in as Optimus all but _purred_ the next lyric. He didn't know whether to focus on his knee struts that had just gone weak, or the orange and white bot standing to Optimus' right he just confirmed was the Prime's back up singer. Just then, the rhythm of the drums began to ramp up with the rising volume of the guitars, and Optimus' voice shot up to a higher octave than he could've imagined him achieving.

_"I don't know how to stop! I give it all I've got!_   
_It's like my brakes are shot!"_

Optimus ripped the microphone from the stand and pounded into the stage with his peds. Both singers' voices went so loud they nearly drowned out the instruments.

_"I gotta have too much! I don't know how to stop!_   
_It's crazy but so what?"_

Megatron could feel himself launched into their story, into a speeding road chase that pumped thrill and excitement into his energon from pure rebellion of the law. Why did the fast-paced songs of Chromedome suddenly come to mind?

_"You know it's what you want!_   
_So give it up and don't be scared of_   
_How good it feels!"_

Optimus Prime snarled the next lyric, a sound that was so familiar to Orion and his angered rant. That's when the Decepticon singer realized that the mech wasn't singing by the music. He was singing by emotion. Unbridled, and wildly untameable emotion in the throes of rock and roll. _True rock and roll._

_"Tell me how good it feels!"_

When the singer's optics scanned over the insanity of the crowd, and their optics met for a fraction of a nanosecond, Megatron knew that was the end of his dangling string of sanity.

***

"Soundwave. I require assistance."

A moment of silence over the comm link.

"Inquiry: What's wrong? Inquiry: What happened?"

A longer moment of silence over the comm link.

"Orion, is... Not who I thought he was."

An even longer moment of silence over the comm link.

"Request: Megatronus stay in current location. Soundwave: will be there momentarily to assist."

The comm link almost shut down. A strange sound immediately opened it again.

"Inquiry: Why is Megatronus laughing?"

The strange sound grew in volume and rang out for a long klik before it quieted.

"Because I don't think I've ever seen a mech look so good in black."

"Inquiry: ... What?"


	8. Chapter 8

Pain shot through the nerve receptors in his voice box, and he stiffened.

"Please hold still, Optimus. I'm almost done."

The medical femme's voice was smooth. He couldn't have responded to her even if he wanted to, not with his vocals manually shut down and cold, sterilized digits tweaking behind his neck cables.

Ratchet sat next to him, his servo rubbing up and down his back struts. Agent Fowler paced grumpily on the other side of the first aid tent, occasionally glancing over at them and mumbling to himself. The rest of the band was waiting anxiously outside the tent.

He wanted to reassure them he was fine, but it was a futile point when he'd originally stepped offstage and started coughing up energon. Ratchet had been the first to reach him, first aid training kicking in as he helped the Prime to lean against the nearest wall and regain his ventilation. When he tried to get Optimus to speak, all that came out was garbled static that stung him harshly. The first medics to the scene diagnosed it as a snapped cable in the voice box, the cause being sudden strain of high vocal key usage and the stress of putting it through more immediately after. After that, he was rushed to the closest first aid tent, not given the chance to wash off the black stripes on his paint job, specially put there by Arcee. When the femme who received Optimus coldly asked who's idea was it for him to perform that song first, Ratchet glared at their agent. In the end they couldn't decide whether Fowler was anxious or angry.

Cold digits behind his neck cables suddenly pulled out, their tips dripping with a small amount of energon. But the medic looked satisfied.

"Alright, the cable's repaired. You may online your voice box again to let the repair nanites begin their work."

Slowly, Optimus engaged the protocol. A small warning flashed that there was minor damage to the voice box and an involuntary protocol for his self-repair nanites engaged. It resolved that the damage would be fully repaired by the morning of the next cycle.

"When will he be able to sing again?"

Agent Fowler questioned critically as he stepped over to them and hovered over all three. The medic's optics narrowed at him as she wiped any residue energon off the Prime's neck cables and her digits with a sterile cloth.

"His repairs should be finished by the next noon cycle, by the latest. Until then, he should refrain from speaking. And afterwards, he will not sing unless his vocals are properly warmed up, and not strained at levels exceeding the maximum!"

Something between a huff and a growl came from Fowler's vocalizer.

"Great. Which means I'll have to cancel this night cycle's interview!"

The medic's optics grew pointed, and she glared for a klik before turning professionally to Ratchet.

"Will you please escort Optimus to where he may get some rest?"

Doc-bot nodded, standing and helping the Prime up as the medic's optics turned up to meet her patient.

"Please try to refrain from using your voice. I'm afraid I cannot give you any numbing agents for your pain receptors, it would slow down the recovery process. Take it easy, alright?"

Optimus nodded. The sting had been reduced to a dull ache, it was nothing he couldn't handle. When his friend subtly jerked his helm in the direction of the entrance, he followed him out.

"Agent Fowler, I'd like to speak with you before you leave."

A glance behind revealed Fowler's annoyed acceptance at the prospect before the tent flap closed behind him.

"Optimus!"

Arcee, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead all perked up at attention and gathered around the two of them.

"You alright?"

The femme questioned, faceplates alight in concern. He smiled at them, nodding once. Ratchet waved her off.

"He'll be fine. The medic said he'll have his voice back by the next cycle. Until then, no one encourage him to talk. And if Fowler tries, we're not letting him."

Optimus turned to Ratchet with pleading optics, lip plates opening to argue. He was promptly stopped.

"Ep ep ep! You will not argue with me on this one, Optimus. We can handle Fowler for one night cycle. For now, I suggest you make yourself scarce."

_What?_ He tipped his helm to the side in a silent question. Ratchet crossed his arm struts over his chest plates with a glance back at the first aid tent.

"You and I both know that Fowler will not let you rest in the slightest if you're in the same proximity. So take a walk, stay away for a few groons, and we'll cover for you. Just try not to use your voice box."

"Yeah, Optimus. We got your back!"

Bulkhead patted him on the back struts, and the rest of the band nodded in affirmation. It warmed his spark. With a small grin, he nodded at them all in thanks, and strode into the maze of tents towards the Festival.

"Alright, let's get out of here before Fowler comes out."

That was the last he heard of them before they too left, leaving Optimus to his own direction.

The light of the day had cycled down to mid-evening, about a groon before sunset. It left the danger of his discovery present, but if Optimus played it carefully enough, he could try to find the Golden Age Booths he'd been hoping to see. Such also left the opportunity of perhaps seeing Tron again. His spark flared warmly at the thought. But this was an enormous festival, populated with thousands of mechs and femmes that would make the opportunity a challenge. Though, not about to let the challenge daunt him into giving up, he pushed the nagging doubt into the back of his processor to focus on scanning the crowd for a tall, silver mech. He had time, and he would use it as wisely as he could.

Along the way, he took the chance to observe the tents he passed. Most of them carried merchandise of the most recently popular bands in the different societies of Cybertron. A lot of which he'd never heard of before. At one point, he found a tent for the band that created one of the porn songs they'd listened to at the bar last cycle. Or at least he assumed so, if the graphic poster screens and tattoo sigils were any indication. It was a great relief to leave that tent behind.

About a groon passed as he wandered, taking care to step into the shadow of the tents whenever bots ran by on their way. Quite a few were in a hurry, if he thought about it, chattering away about the next band that would be performing. The 'Decepticons,' or so he'd heard. It sounded faintly Kaonian, and reminded him of Tron; a saddening thought since he had not yet found the grey mech.

_"Femmes and Gentlemecha, please make your way to the stage for our next performers!"_

The speakers of the stage blared not too far off, and more mecha nearby began to make their way towards it. In distanced observation of a tent who's band merchandise dated back about half a millennium, the sound of peds stomping closer from behind brought his thoughtful processor back to reality. He sidestepped into a tent and pressed himself against the thin wall, watching warily as they passed.

"You're late, Optimus Prime of the Autobots."

The Prime couldn't even think of a coherent curse as he whirled around to face the mech who'd discovered him. It was a simple merchant of the tent he resided, leaning back against the chair he was in and watching the Rockstar with calm optics. How could a civilian be so calm while he stood there in near shock? The usual roles seemed to have been reversed.

"Pardon me?"

The words came forth by habit before he could stop them, and the hoarse whisper that accompanied them heightened the ache of his vocals. He shuttered his optics at it.

"Oof. Rough day, huh?"

The merchant asked sympathetically. All he could do was nod.

"Might you be looking for a friend of yours, Optimus?"

Surprise followed by no small amount of suspicion flashed through the Prime, and he tilted his head in question to the other.

"He's a tall mech, just a bit taller than you. His paint job's silver, and he's got red optics."

As the merchant gestured to his height and description with his servos, Optimus' optics widened. He was referring to Tron! Tron had been here! The Prime nodded briskly and stepped forward, hoping the urgency he felt would be conveyed to the merchant.

"Well, as I said before, you're late. He was here about four groons ago looking for you... He seemed a bit confused, didn't recognize your name."

_Scrap. I missed him..._

His spark pulsed.

_Wait a klik, didn't recognize my name?_

Optimus didn't have the chance to question that statement before the merchant continued, looking over the Prime's shoulder at something behind him.

"Though I'm fairly sure you can still see Megatron if you hurry. His performance is up next on stage."

_What?_ Optimus was lost. Weren't they just talking about Tron? Why was he now referring to someone else?

"Who?"

It was again by habit, and his intake didn't appreciate it. The merchant's optics recycled, and he suddenly chuckled to himself.

"By Primus, no wonder you two can't find each other. You don't even know who the other is."

Just then, his servo reached above his helm, a digit pointing to poster screens above him.

"Megatron, lead singer of the Decepticon band."

His optics slowly followed the digit, coming to stop on a screen directly above it. Against a black background, 'The Decepticons' band name in purple lettering stood at the top. Beneath it, a faceless and dark purple mech stood against a keyboard with feelers spread out around it. Beside him, a large and squared blue mech with orange faceplates and a single yellow optic staring out. His servos held drumsticks. A red racer was poised at the bottom left, body turned sideways with a matching guitar. And in the middle stood a tall, silver mech flashing a smirk with all too familiar sharp denta. He was shadowed by a silver seeker at the bottom right.

"I pointed out your poster to him earlier. Something must've revealed itself to him, because after that he ran off and... Optimus?"

He couldn't respond. Not even in gestures. His frame was frozen in place as he stared at the faceplates he'd swooned over just a cycle before. Faceplates of a mech he'd assumed was completely normal. Not really anything like him...

_Tron... Megatron... How could I have been so blind?_

**"Don't be silent, let them hear you! From the fires of Kaon, HERE COME THE DECEPTICONS!"**

_Megatron! The Decepticons!_

He turned back towards the open entrance of the tent where the corner of the stage could be seen. Light flashed out from it into the quickly approaching night cycle, and cheers were getting louder. Whipping back to see the poster one last time, Optimus turned on a heel and dashed out.

"Oh Primus, not you too!"

Whatever the merchant had said was lost behind him. If he passed by any bots that knew him, he didn't notice. If his pain receptors flashed at the sudden hiss of ventilating air through his intakes, he didn't care. Was Tron real? Or was Megatron real? The poster had told him Megatron, his spark echoed both, and his logic circuits didn't know what to respond with. Solace of an answer could only be found on the stage he ran towards, pushing his leg struts to limits he never thought to explore.

By the time he reaches the last of the audience, the harmony of a bass electric guitar and snare drums have begun. Hundreds to thousands of mechs are screaming at the top level of their voice boxes, and he fights to weave through the crowd to get closer. He can't even apologize to the mechs who yell and curse at him as he desperately shoves through them. He can only hope they still don't recognize him.

The cheers suddenly heighten, and Optimus stops where he stands to see why. Where in the crowd he is, he doesn't know. But his lengthy frame gives him the advantage the sight of the stage from this far back. Purple and white lights are dancing behind each band member, flashing over each and every bot to give the night cycle life. And at the edge of center stage stands the imposing figure of a Kaonian, who tears the microphone from its stand to throw the metal rod aside with a snarl. His silver armor shines in the light, a purple sigil on the center of his chest plates glows, and purple highlights within his armor have been tuned up to sparkle. When he lifts the microphone to his lip plates, the Prime sees the dangerous glint those red optics have taken.

_"How could this affect my life?_   
_How could I affect the outcome?_   
_So why even try?_   
_For what? For what? For what? For what?!"_

Megatron's voice, that deep and rasp-edged voice curling around his spark like protective servos when he sang, did not recite any tale. It did not tell a story. It questioned. It inquired. It _challenged_. When he sang, it was as if he were speaking to the fans; telling them to think, to respond, to answer his question. And his band followed in step. The red racer's guitar, the blue mech's drums, and the silver seekers voice; they all wrapped around him with their own individuality.

_"A coward can save the day,_   
_when the bravest of mecha just stand by._   
_So easy to say;_   
_so what? So what? So what?!"_

_'When we started our career, we were disrespected and ignored by many... But like the Pit we cared. There was a freedom found in what we did...'_  
One did not question their own society like Megatron just had. But the mech did not sing it in shame, his voice echoed out with pride. There was no shadow of a doubt that his processor could cling to; this mech was Tron. They were of one will. One mind. One spark.

In that nanosecond, everything halted, and the Kaonian paused before the next nanosecond, when he threw his fist in the air.

_"So what if we all stand up?!_   
_What if we don't give in?!"_

His voice went up an octave, and the mech began to jump in his place at the edge. Around him, the crowd mirrored the lead singer, and the ground shook with their collective weight slamming the ground.

_"What if we traded our complacency_   
_for a voice that won't be ignored?"_

Megatron's fist came back down and his clawed servo curled out at his side. He strode towards the side of the stage, speaking out to that direction, before striding back to meet the other side with the same ruthlessness. He did not question anymore. He _demanded_ their attention. The audience screamed and gave it to him willingly.

_"How can we just give up?!_   
_How can we just give in?!_   
_What if the silent majority wasn't silent anymore?"_

With the audience's deafening cheers, Megatron brought a world to revolution at his peds. He took everything that a mech knew, and crushed it beneath his ped in spite. Megatron did not only see the wrong doings that all rockstars saw in the world, but he _battled_ it, fighting fear and darkness with fire and anger. He brought everything Optimus had thought was his world crumbling down. And then he built it back up so much better than before. The grey mech had taken hold of Optimus' very spark, and in that moment, nothing mattered. No one else mattered. It was only Megatron, and the vent-stopping possibilities he'd shown Optimus that his life cycle could be.

_"Hurry up, the world needs this!_   
_Speak up now, or we can pick up the pieces..."_


	9. Chapter 9

His back strut found the frigid, but sturdy metal of the light pole and his frame crumbled to the ground beneath it. He stared at the ground with optics still blown wide from the performance. Optimus did not know what to feel after what he'd just witnessed. Shock? Enlightenment? Love? Enrapturement? Whatever it might be, he knew it wasn't hate. It could never be. He would never come close to performing as well as the grey mech had with just one song. The humble, yet courageous Kaonian who'd called himself Tron as an alias; was also a talented and truly remarkable revolutionary of rock and roll called Megatron. And Optimus had met him. Personally.

He wanted to laugh until he cried. Or cry until he laughed. Anything to counter the revolving emotions that were pressing down on him like iron chains. There was so much he wanted to say to the grey mech, so much he was hoping Megatron might say in turn. But his processor was quick to cackle at him, bringing back the memories of his awkward shyness, his ranting, and the way he'd stuttered and spoke like a youngling.

_Primus, I must've looked like a fool to him! Why would a mech like him both to remember me?_

His spark was quick to counter the thought.

_If I had been a fool to him, then why did he look for me?_

Maybe the better question was: why, like the merchant said, had he run off in the end?

Silently groaning, Optimus buried his faceplate in his servos and leaned into his knee struts. He was so happy, yet horrified, and in the end confused. He didn't know what to feel.

His comm link suddenly beeped in his audial, jolting him upright. The familiar code of Ratchet flashed over his optics. He could've sobbed in relief at the call, talking to Ratchet about this sounded like a wonderful idea. Opening the link, he started slowly.

"Ratchet..."

He whispered, before he was jolted again as the doc-bot's frantic voice flooded his processor.

"Optimus! Primus, fraggit! I've been trying to reach you for the past groon!"

The Prime leaned forward, an edge of worry bumping the other emotions in his spark aside.

"What is it, old friend?"

Ratchet sounded winded when he responded.

"It's Fowler! He's—"

"PRIME! Where in Cybertron's name have you been?!"

That voice hadn't come from his comm link... Turning towards the sound, his worry turned to a burst of panic as his agent rapidly made his way towards him. His optics blazed in fury.

"Agent Fowler--!"

His vocals would only let him croak.

"Get off the ground!! That's horrible for your public image!"

The mech grabbed him by the arm strut and yanked him to his peds before he was ready. His leg struts felt flimsy and he wobbled on them before stumbling backwards into the pole again, the hit shooting pain up his spinal strut.

"For Primus' sake, pull yourself together Prime!"

"Optimus!"

Ratchet and the others were running to catch up, and the relief at their presence made him sag against the metal, leaning against it to stay standing.

"What happened?"

They all but shoved Fowler aside at the sight of Optimus. Bulkhead came around to his side, slowly sliding a servo under his arm strut and around his back to ease him off the pole. When the Prime wobbled again, he stood steady.

"Whoa, easy there Optimus."

The servo that was slung over Bulkhead's shoulders grasped onto the Wrecker's arm strut. It helped to ground him. As he regained his balance, Ratchet's magnetic field stretched over him, a calm to his whirling storm of emotions. When he searched for him, he found Ratchet at his side ready to catch him at a moment's notice. At least in the midst of everything that was happening to him, his band was there. A constant in the confusion.

"Come on! We don't have time for this! We have to be backstage in the next five kliks, let's go!!"

Fowler stomped off, leaving the band to slowly follow as the Prime heaved himself off of his drummer to walk on his own.

"What...? Why...?"

One worded questions were all the whispers he could manage. All Ratchet could do was shrug his shoulders in return.

"Fowler got a call on his comm link. Next thing you know, he's shooing us out of Motormaster and demanding to know where you are. That was the closet we've gotten to figuring out this whole situation."

_Backstage...?_

His spark flared at the possibility of who might still be there.

***

"You sounded beautiful tonight, Knocky."

Breakdown nuzzled up against his bonded's pointed audial, eliciting a purr from his red partner.

"Thank you, Breakdown. You sounded pretty good yourself, the drums were on point."

The drummer hummed, and Megatron watched the pair share a moment of soft compassion. Starscream grumbled, crossing one leg strut over the other on the stool in front of the dressing room's shining mirror.

"He was two beats off in the third song."

If looks could kill, the glare the seeker got from both mechs as their helms spun over to him would've massacred the audience they'd just performed for. No doubt the biggest audience they'd ever had, but this also had to be one of their best performances as a band.

Soundwave looked up from Laserbeak feeding from his energon cube and tilted his helm.

"Critique: Starscream was off-key for half of performance."

The other three mecha in the room burst out laughing as the seeker's jaw fell open and he sputtered indignantly.

"I was not!!"

"Correction: You were too."

Starscream glanced over at Megatron for some kind of help, but all their lead singer did was shrug.

"You were. You're lucky the audience didn't hear you most of the time."

"Ooh! Shots fired!"

This time it was the seeker's turn to glare murderously at Knockout. It would've continued, if Silas hadn't walked into the room.

"All of you; up. You're needed backstage."

"Excuse me, can you knock please? We're busy insulting Starscream."

Knockout's commentary didn't amuse their agent, not by the way he evenly stared at the guitarist, then the rest of them.

"All of you; up. Now."

Breakdown and Knockout were the first to get up, groaning as their exhausted limbs protested. Starscream was next, striding after them with clicking heels and aggressively perched wings as he mumbled to himself incoherently. Soundwave and Megatron shared an expression of a silent question.

"Another interview?"

Soundwave shook his helm.

"Unlikely. Interviews: not normally conducted immediately after performances."

That left the question of what it might be... A question that would have to wait to be answered if they wanted to keep their audials intact. Soundwave stood, signaling for Laserbeak to fly up and reattach to his chest plates. Megatron was the last to rise, walking out of the room after Soundwave to follow the rest of the band back towards the stage. Another advantage to this stage compared to Kaon's stages; this one didn't take a groon and an endless maze of dark hallways to walk from the stage to suitable dressing rooms. Here it only took about a klik.

Entering the backstage area from the dressing room hallway, it was surprising how quiet everything had become... Well, except for the obnoxiously loud voice of a mech that was approaching from around the corner.

"—so Bumblebee, Bulkhead, behave yourselves! Arcee, no snapping at anybody! Ratchet, no sarcastic comments—"

"I'm older than you, Agent Fowler! Don't you tell me what to do!"

Megatron was roused from his thoughts as everyone's attention focused on the group walking in from around the corner. The bantering of the first voice sounded familiar to Silas.

"And Optimus, for Primus' sake, you're not dead! Pull yourself together!"

_Optimus?_

Soundwave was the first to notice when Megatron's frame turned quickly towards the sounds.

At last, the other group walked in, and Megatron was the first to recognize them as the Autobots. Fronted by a short mech dragging Optimus Prime, whom looked wilted and angry, by the arm strut. The fire in his spark flared once again.

When he called out to the other, everyone except Soundwave startled.

"Orion!"

He couldn't even curse himself at automatically using the alias before Optimus Prime's frame instantly straightened, and he stared at the other in stiff shock.

"Tron!"

His voice was a croak. Megatron's spark whirled hot in anger.

"What happened to your voice?!"

"Who in the Pits is _that?!_ "

"Who in the Pits is _that?!_ "

Starscream and Ratchet simultaneously shouted at their respective lead singers.

"Fowler..."

"Silas?!"

The agents were suddenly helm to helm, staring each other down.

"You all know each other?!"

Bumblebee was the last to squeak, his doorwings twitching at the sudden tension between the two groups.

"Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately."

Both agents spoke in unison.

Megatron ignored them all, marching towards Optimus as his optics scanned over his neck cables in distress. The scuffs on their sides told him that someone's digits had been in them. When he spoke, his tone was much more controlled.

"What happened, my friend?"

His spark was pounding, and he would've wilted to the floor if Megatron's clawed servos hadn't grabbed his arm struts. The Kaonian's optics scanned over his neck cables, flashing at the scuffs that had yet to be polished off. Grasping his arm struts in return, Optimus tried to speak, but the hoarse whisper was cut off by a small bout of static. It hurt.

"Optimus, hush! You're going to snap your cable all over again."

Said bot downcast his optics as Ratchet came up beside the two of them, his expression turning violent when he then turned to Megatron.

"Who do you think you are?! How do you know him?!"

A pointed digit made Megatron immediately take a step away from the aggressive bot. There was no use in rising to the challenger when all he was doing was protecting the Prime. He put his servos up in a sign of peace, until the red and blue mech came out of nowhere, standing between them with a pleading expression thrown to Ratchet. Said doc-bot knew he wouldn't be able to withstand against it. Clearly there was more to it than first impressions showed. Megatron took the chance to calmly explain himself.

"I am a recent friend of his. We met at the Town's Tavern last cycle."

" _That's_ where you went?! You were at the tavern with _him?!_ "

Starscream near shrieked. He was, again, promptly ignored. Ratchet threw an incredulous look at Optimus.

"And you didn't think to tell me this, because _why_?"

Another pleading expression. Ratchet sighed.

"Nevermind, don't answer that, this whole situation is the reason why."

"... So Agent Fowler, your lead singer busted a vocal cable?"

All attention was brought to the two agents. Fowler looked grumpy, and Silas' optics scanned over Optimus critically, a smirk on his faceplates. His arms folded over his chest plates.

"Figures for you, Fowler. My lead singer can rise from a death beating of a tour in Kaon, and yours can't even handle the punch of one performance."

Optimus' optics narrowed at the Decepticon's agent, spark flaring and smoke rising from his stacks. It wasn't being compared to Megatron that made him angry more than the way Silas looked at him like a tamed, broken beast.

"Who do you think _you_ are?!"

Ratchet snarled, and Megatron noticed the Autobot band's furious glares at his agent. Glancing back, he exchanged a wary glance with Soundwave. Knockout, Breakdown, and Starscream looked nervous. Their agent lifted a brow plate at the doc-bot.

"I am Silas. And you, Fowler, seem to have rambunctious clients. Can't even get them under control?"

"Control?!"

Silas ignored the doc-bot's insulted tone, something the Prime familiarized with their own agent. Fowler's frown suddenly turned up into a smirk, and he glanced sideways at Silas.

"Well since we're talking about rambunctious clients, how's your last client doing? Oh wait, that's right, didn't they throw themselves off that building in Tarn after they got sued by the audience of their last performance?"

Everyone stared at the agents as Silas' lip plate curled up into a sneer. Knockout's plating had flared out in panic as his magnetic field flared in horror. Megatron was inclined to agree.

"Wait a klik, _what happened to your last client?!_ "

"You're one to talk Fowler--"

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! The tension level in here is dramatic!"

Silas wasn't happy to be interrupted, and all bots in the room turned towards the new presence.

Three of the bots' jaws dropped simultaneously.

"... Alpha Trion?"


	10. Chapter 10

"... Alpha Trion?"

Megatron's voice nearly malfunctioned. Optimus' optics had flown as wide as they could possibly go, staring in mute shock. Ratchet, for the first time in eons, was speechless.

Alpha Trion was taller than all of them, with armor that curled around each shoulder joint and leg strut with pointed edges, giving hint to the rugged years of his prime. It was not overly bulky, nor sleek, but met somewhere in the middle like the build of Optimus Prime. His paint job countered it like ice to a raging fire, light blues melding with whites to give the illusion his frame was its own spark. A brightly tinted silver beard was the only give away to the mech's true age, and even that was countered by optics that glowed like stars.

The one and only, Alpha Trion.

Optimus could've choked on a cry of delight if his vocals had allowed it.

The mech turned to Megatron, a steady smile gracing his faceplates.

"In the present, Megatron of the Decepticons."

The grey mech couldn't believe his audials.

"... You just spoke my name."

He whispered in awe. Somewhere behind him, Soundwave was laughing at his young behavior. And somewhere on Cybertron, Primus was probably laughing at him too.

"Uh... Who's Alpha Trion?"

Arcee questioned, lifting a brow plate at the mech. Ratchet sputtered before whirling around and throwing his servos up.

"He's only the _king_ of rock and roll! Alpha Trion was the biggest rockstar of the Golden Ages! His band went on _multiple_ world tours and took part in the galactic festival on the Planet Vetto! We're in the presence of a _living legend_!!"

The elder mech chuckled, nodding once with the doc-bot.

"Thank you for the kind introduction, my friend. It's warming to see a mech like myself of the Golden Ages not completely forgotten."

Optimus now couldn't believe his audials. How could Alpha Trion ever think that?

"You are not forgotten!"

Everyone jolted and winced at the crackling whisper, realizing its severity. The Prime immediately felt embarrassed at the sound of it, drawing the newly concerned optics of Alpha Trion.

"Oh my. That sounds like a torn vocal cable. Had plenty of them back in the eons. I _thought_ that song was a bit high in vocal levels to start a performance off with."

_Oh Primus_... His helm lowered in sheer embarrassment in front of the idol. Ratchet came to his defense.

"It wasn't his fault--"

"Oh believe me, I know it isn't. I've gone through enough agents to pick up their handiwork."

Alpha Trion's optics suddenly scanned through both groups to stare at the two mecha standing in the back.

"Which one of you two morons is the agent that told him to sing it?"

Fowler and Silas obviously knew who this mech was, by the way Silas jerked a thumb digit in Fowler's direction and the mech growled at him.

"Whoa... Bot sitter just got called a moron by a living legend of rock and roll."

Bulkhead said slowly.

"Best. Cycle. Ever."

Bumblebee whispered back. Doc-bot smirked and Optimus could've laughed. Then Ratchet's faceplates fell into realization.

"Wait, you heard our song... You watched us perform?"

Alpha Trion's optics widened and he laughed to himself.

"Oh yes of course! Forgive an old mech's rambles, back to the point at servo."

Clearing his intake, he put his servos behind his back and took on a manner of professionalism both Megatron and Optimus envied.

"For those of you who do not know, I am Alpha Trion, one of the many artists of rock and roll from the Golden Ages. Since my friend here listed off my accomplishments, I'll spare you of droning on about myself. This is about you."

Megatron and Optimus exchanged a glance. He paused before continuing.

"I'm not supposed to reveal this, but I was called on by the Festival's leading organizers to be the surprise judge of your world tour contest, and as such, I have observed all rock bands that have performed thus far."

" _You?_ "

"Primus below..."

Megatron muttered as Ratchet questioned the rockstar. Optimus could only stare. Both lead singers felt a daunting anxiousness fall over them as they realized they would be performing for their idol.

"Wait, all rock bands thus far? How many have already performed?"

Alpha Trion's optics narrowed in thought to Knockout's sudden question.

"... Twenty-three, if my processor is to be believed. Which brings me to why you are all here, my friends. Autobots, Decepticons, I called you here to meet because I wanted to compliment you on your distinguished performances."

" _Compliment us?_ "

This time, Optimus had to manually throw his servo over his intake to keep himself from speaking. The Autobot and Decepticon bands exchanged surprised glances. Alpha Trion nodded, a wistful smile on his faceplates.

"Autobots, I would like to commend you on your collective talent. I could see that keeping a collective rhythm between you all has been practiced, and your melodies were well executed. Optimus, though the song choice might not have been your decision, it was exceptionally well done. You have true talent, my friend."

That made the third time in one groon that he felt embarrassed, but this time it was in good nature. Smiling shyly, he nodded in thanks, as did the rest of the Autobots. Alpha Trion then turned to the other band.

"Decepticons, I appreciated your capability of working together. Each of you were unique in terms of individual performance, therefore I found it pleasing to see how well you came together. Megatron... You sure know how to get your audience going, I like that about you."

Said Kaonian chuckled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck cables with his digits.

"We're used to a tough crowd."

"Yes, Kaon was tough back in the Golden Ages as well. But it makes a mech all the better of a performer."

Pausing again, Alpha Trion took a few steps back to once again address the whole group.

"Autobots, Decepticons, you have my favor. I cannot wait to see your next performances in the upcoming cycles, and wish you all my luck in the running to win the world tour."

Both bands muttered a collective 'thank you' and the rockstar turned on a ped to leave. But as he walked by the Autobots, he subtly slowed down by the Prime, placing a servo on his shoulder. Optimus' spark started pounding.

"Warm your next cube of energon, hmm? It will help with the ache. I do hope you make a fast and full recovery."

With a gentle smile, Alpha Trion was on his way. Optimus could only whisper an awed 'thank you' as he left before turning to Ratchet, mouthing 'He touched my shoulder!!' in silent excitement. Ratchet mouthed back 'Never wash that shoulder again...'

"Well, if that's all this was about, can we leave now?"

Starscream broke the silence with a whine.

Agents Silas and Fowler, whom had been momentarily forgotten in the chaos of the legend's compliments, now looked at each other with an equal frustration.

"It seems that as the judge's new favorites, we're at an impasse."

Silas spoke evenly, their postures more relaxed than before.

"But let's let bygones be bygones. And may the best band win."

Fowler chuckled, an arrogant smirk on his faceplates.

"Oh believe me Silas,"

"We plan to."

"We plan to."

Grumbling at their simultaneous timing, both agents turned and walked off in opposite directions.

"Come on, Optimus!"

The Prime could only be thankful his agent didn't try to grab his arm strut again, instead walking through all of them, not waiting for them to follow. Expecting it.

"All of you, we're leaving."

The Decepticons begrudgingly followed their agent, except Megatron.

Both lead singers stayed where they were, turning back to each other. So much still hung unspoken between them, and if this was the way the rest of the Festival would go, it would remain that way. The thought scared them both. _May the best band win._ With their agents at odds as they were, they knew this would only end in war... That didn't mean they wanted to fight it. Not if it meant fighting each other.

"PRIME!!"

"Megatron!!"

Megatron didn't miss the way Optimus flinched at Agent Fowler's call. He reached out and grabbed the Prime's servo, finding the gaze of those pulsing blue optics. They were edged with desperation and indecision.

"0016. Use it when you have the chance."

When Optimus realized it was Megatron's comm code, something warm curled around his spark, and he nodded with a small smile. His servo squeezed the claws that held it tenderly. Then, in a recycle of an optic, he was gone.

The grey mech stood there for another few nanoseconds, trying to process everything that had just happened. But one thing stood out. _'And Optimus, for Primus' sake, you're not dead! Pull yourself together!'_ Something more violent than it looked was hidden within their interactions. Silas may be an aft, but Fowler... He did not trust Fowler. The memory of the way he dragged the Prime into the room made him growl, and he walked out after his band.

He would find out more about Fowler.


	11. Chapter 11

_Faith is like a fire that never burns to embers._

The cursor on the datapad blinked on the next line. Optimus cycled air through his vents, looking out from the window of the lower bunk at the moons high in Cybertron's sky. Around him, the soft snores of the band came from each bunk, except for Arcee whom preferred to recharge on the couch. Fowler had taken residence in a nearby tent, much to everyone's relief. Even Motormaster had powered down for the night cycle, not seeming to know one of the band members had given up on recharge two groons ago.

The Prime's thoughts had wandered a straighter path tonight than usual. The events of the day had left his logic circuits cluttered, still trying to process that everything had _actually_ happened. So, he abandoned trying to put that into sense, instead watching the memory files replay of Megatron and the Decepticons. As that had happened, words started to dance across his processor. As they came, they were typed into the datapad.

_Spark is beating faster, feels like thunder._

It was the beginnings of a song, he knew that. But this was different. The lyrics came in random order. Normally when he wrote, he wrote a verse at a time in the song's logical order. However, a lyric had never felt this important before. Each of them struck his spark, and he knew they would be vital parts to the song. Except they could not go together unless he wanted the song to sound horrible. What he needed was a story to go with them. Words that could describe what exactly was happening...

_Love is the answer._

Another random lyric... Optimus was not stupid. He knew these were only because of Tron. No, Megatron. He'd proven that they were the same mech. His arm struts could still feel the phantom grip of those clawed digits. It awed him how the Kaonian he'd seen on stage singing of revolution, had been the same mech to become so stressed over the injury to his voice box. And to give him his comm code.

_You can take my spark, you can take my breath..._

The code flashed across the Prime's optics, taunting him. _'Use it when you have the chance.'_ Well, here was one. His spark pulsed at the idea, but his processor was nervous. Would the grey mech even be online? Megatron struck Optimus as the kind of mech that would kill another if he was awoken in the middle of the night for no reason. While such a thought was funny, it wasn't good news for him. But something whispered 'yes' and before his logic circuits could surface to talk him out of it, his comm link was calling up the code.

***

Megatron was thrust from his state of contemplation when his comm link beeped in his audial. When the unfamiliar code flashed, the datapad on his thigh dropped to the berth beside him with a small thump. Thankfully, his actions hadn't woken the others. But Laserbeak, who'd been dozing by his peds because Soundwave liked to sleep on his front, chirped groggily with slowly brightening optics. Grinning at the minicon, he pressed a claw to his lip plates with a short hush, and then answered the call.

"Couldn't recharge either, Optimus?"

The rasp was quiet, but he could hear a hint of that deep tone within it. It surprised Optimus, as well as the question at servo did. Yet it also greatly comforted him, giving the illusion that the mech on the other side of the link was right next to him.

"How did you know it was me?"

Optimus' inquiry was a whisper, so quiet even over the link that Megatron had to tune up his audials to hear him. There was no trace of his voice, and it threw the grey mech off until he remembered their earlier meeting. But he recovered within nanoseconds and answered easily.

"The only other mech who knows this code is my keyboard specialist, Soundwave. And he's currently in recharge on the berth next to mine."

_He did not give his agent his comm code?_ Optimus might not have known other bands personally, but he knew it was a necessary trend for the band members to give their codes to their agents. Not that he was an actual participant of that trend, however. A few centuries after they started the band, Fowler had broken his comm link from calling and pinging it so many times. He never told the agent that it had been repaired. The only other bot who knew was Ratchet, and it was a carefully kept secret.

"I see... The only other mech who knows mine is Ratchet."

Megatron chuckled to himself, images of the aged and agitated bot with a pointed digit coming back up in his processor as he responded.

"I will infer that said mech's paint job colors are orange and white and does not approve of me?"

That made Optimus smile, processor a bit relieved at the easy-going converser the Kaonian was proving to be. His datapad slid off his lap as he shifted over on his side, momentarily forgotten as he laid his helm on his arm strut to make himself more comfortable.

"Ratchet does not approve of any mech whom comes near me without a full background check and a proven state of sanity."

Such information did not surprise Megatron. What did was the suspicious thoughts of a specific bot closest to the Prime that came afterward. He could not ignore it.

"Does this include your agent?"

Perhaps it was the depth within the tone that had curled, Optimus could not be sure. But something had given way to a small change of emotion in Megatron's voice, and it made him still.

"No... He has never approved of Agent Fowler."

_Now why doesn't that surprise me._ It proved some of his earlier suspicions, which both relieved him that he hadn't been imagining it and concerned him that he hadn't been imagining it.

"And I thought my agent was a scrapheap."

Optimus had the feeling that Megatron had mumbled that more to himself, but he'd heard it. From what he'd seen, Agent Silas did not treat the Decepticons much better. Though he did not use physical restraint with them, nor did he ignore the rest of the band in favor of Megatron. He did not admit it to anyone but himself, but the Kaonian was right.

"Agent Fowler was not hired by choice... He was the only talent agent in Iacon who would work with us at the time."

_Huh_. That raised a few questions. But Megatron did not voice them when his band had gone through the same situation. They'd been lucky Silas was willing to strike a deal. Settling his back struts against the wall of the bunk, he sighed.

"Does Fowler often treat you like he did this cycle?"

_The physical restraint, the blame, the outrageous demands to make Optimus look better on a stage..._ Megatron received a sudden silence over the comm link, something Soundwave was known for more than anyone else. He did not like silence from Optimus. Silence seemed to mean thoughts colored darker than the night outside his window. Anxiousness bit at his spark, because in this situation, the silence meant yes.

"Sometimes... But he does not normally let others see him when he's physically abusive."

Abuse. Megatron's spark snarled the word and he didn't realize he was sneering until he felt his lip plates curled up.

"I think I should throw him in the smelting pits."

A picture of the short-framed agent dangling from Megatron's servos by his peds over a smelting pit proved to be quite comical, because Optimus instantly found himself biting his servo to mute his laughter before it would blurt more static from his vocal box. After a klik and some regained control, Optimus released his servo from his denta and whispered with no small hint of malice.

"May I watch when you do?"

Megatron recycled his optics. The amount of hostility in a single sentence that could come from Optimus Prime was astounding. No wonder he made such a fitting Rockstar. He smirked.

"If you don't mind assisting when I drop Silas in next, I believe that can be arranged."

It was Optimus' turn to smirk.

"I think I would very much enjoy in assisting."

In mock surprise, Megatron gasped and put a servo to his chest plates.

"By Primus! The humble and polite-mannered Orion, assisting in the murder of my and his own talent agents... I think I could grow to enjoy your company more often."

Optimus snickered, flipping over onto his back.

"And the noble, mighty Tron! Contemplating revenge in cold energon of talent agents who don't even reach his chest plates... You make me swoon like a youngling."

Only when his logic circuits froze up did Optimus realize what he'd just said. Before he could decide whether to hang up or start apologizing profusely, the low chimes of Megatron's laughter fell over the link.

"Well then, _Optimus_ , should I assume a first date at the smelting pits is in order?"

_Did he just purr my designation?_ Now Optimus was actually starting to swoon. Letting his spark make the next decision because it seemed to make more right decisions than his processor ever had, he took it in stride.

"You should. I'll bring the vintage high grade and a few of Alpha Trion's best albums."

Oh, Optimus just kept getting better and better. And by the way the fire in his chest was raging, his spark appreciated it too. _Where has this mech been all of my life cycles?_ Too far for too long. This mech might actually be the cause of the first love song the grey mech had ever written... Megatron looked back out the window at the moons, smiling in his good mood.

"I'm grateful to have met you, Optimus Prime."

Said bot listened to the tenderness in the statement fondly.

"As am I, Megatron."

The next silence they shared in mutual contentment. With it, they grey mech began to wonder what he would have to do to see the red and blue bot again.

"Optimus, when will you be performing next cycle?"

***

It had been a long cycle, and his original intent was not to bring his band that evening. But as he snuck away from Silas bickering on his comm link to avoid the next interview, Soundwave was quick to follow. With Soundwave came Starscream, with Starscream came Knockout, and with Knockout came Breakdown. All of them bored were bored without a performance scheduled this cycle, and boredom did not take well to the Decepticon band.

"You were not supposed to follow me."

Megatron growled at the rest of them. Soundwave just stared at him, surely raising a brow plate at him under the face screen. Starscream crossed his arms over his chest plates with an impatiently tapping heel. Breakdown looked back nervously in the direction they had come before Knockout snickered.

"Any excuse to get out of another interview is enough. Please tell, oh glorious lead singer of ours, where might we be going?"

The sarcasm in that question was enough to bite off a servo. Megatron grunted. There was no use trying to get rid of them now.They would just have to come along, and he would have to deal with their whining when they found out where he was going.

"You'll see soon enough."

They followed in step as he weaved in between tents. The second day of the festival had brought more bots, therefore making it difficult for him on his own to avoid recognition, much less his entire band. But thankfully, Soundwave was a master of stealth, and kept them all on track. He was the one to find the abandoned tent filled with benches on top of a small hill behind the gathering crowd at Stage 4.

"Intending to size up the competition, are we Megatron?"

Starscream remarked neutrally, if not a bit arrogantly. Brushing the rust off one of the front benches before placing himself on it, the seeker's wings twitched as he threw his right leg strut over his left. Breakdown didn't care about the rust, just sitting on a bench behind.

"At least we get our own booth, eh Knocky?"

The red racer was staring at the benches dejectedly, disgusted at the rust build up on the metal platform.

"There's no way I'm sitting on that! It'll ruin my paint job!"

Everyone besides Breakdown rolled their optics but didn't comment. The blue mech thought for a moment, until an idea came to his processor and he smiled up at his bonded.

"I think I can help with that."

Then he caught Knockout by the waist, pulling him onto his lap. The red racer took a klik to situate himself a bit more comfortably before leaning back against his partner's bulky chest plates.

"What would I do without you Breaky?"

Megatron couldn't help a _really_ small smile at that. The first of its kind, and one that Soundwave took notice to as he lowered next to him on the front bench. Said mech thumped his arm strut, eliciting his attention.

"Inquiry: Here because of Orion?"

He whispered near silently. The grey mech's lip plate curled up slightly, his quick glance over at the fellow Kaonian hinted with mellowness at the name.

"Perhaps."

He whispered back.

The speakers on the stage just then crackled to life. And as the steady, solemn strumming of an electric guitar began, the announcer came on.

**"Femmes and Gentlemecha, make some noise for the outlaws of Iacon! Your world's about to be rocked, BY THE AUTOBOTS!"**

Screams and cheers vibrated in the air around them. Starscream was the first of them react, optics blown wide and a sneer on his faceplates.

"We're watching _them?!_ "

Megatron watched as the young black and yellow bot strummed an elegant, somber melody, joined by the hum of what sounded almost like violins. It was Ratchet, this time in the upper right corner behind a keyboard, his digits plucking the keys in slow progression. _A back-up singer and a keyboard specialist._ Soundwave was probably impressed. Next to him, the femme on guitar started her own melody, synchronized with the beat of the green drummer at the top of them all.

They all performed in a natural unity, ready to come together around the spark of the song, the voice, that was walking out with practiced timing. When Optimus reached the mic, he did not touch it. Instead he leaned forward, closed his optics, and began the song.

_"Tonight, I'm without you_   
_And acid is falling_   
_With candlelight burning_   
_For you I'll be waiting..._   
_Here."_

The others fell quiet, and Starscream's aggressively high wings fell lower. Once again, Megatron was left speechless. The gentle and beautiful grace of the Prime's voice was such a counter to the wicked and feral performance last cycle that his helm spun. This was more like the bot called Orion he'd met at the tavern. But the one thing that hadn't changed is that he was not quiet. Even in these lines, Optimus seemed to put everything he was into their output. And as the accompanying instruments ramped up in the foreshadowing of the chorus, the Prime's servos came up to hold the mic tightly. It reminded him of the way he'd gripped at his arm struts.

_"If all of our days have no more light,_   
_And all of our dreams are lost to night..._   
_The stars can all fall!_   
_And everything turned to grey:_   
_I will stay."_

The high vocal key he hit this time was not nearly as high as last cycle's, which the still logical part of Megatron's processor was relieved for. Fowler must've either grown a processor, or begrudgingly let the Autobots pick the song. He knew it must be the latter. The other part of his processor could've been compared to Knockout, who's optics were lit in no small amount of awe.

"... That is a rather impressive verse."

A scoff from Starscream gave away his instant jealousy of the mech their lead singer watched in rapture.

"It is not!! It's... It's... Agh!"

The red racer smirked at the seeker, before turning towards Megatron in front of him with a whine.

"Why can't you write pretty songs like this?"

Said mech wasn't paying attention at all to the question. So, it was Starscream who answered with a snort.

"Because our, oh so glorious lead singer, cannot write a love song to save his flickering spark."

He growled. One of Soundwave's feelers came up and tapped the startled seeker's lip plates, quietly telling him to shut up. He too, seemed to be entranced by the performance. Why, they didn't know.

_"Graceful and loving,_   
_Beautiful and soothing._   
_Can't breathe without you._   
_There's no life without you..._   
_Here."_

"This is so soft-sparked, it's sickening."

Knockout huffed, irritated as he turned to the grumbling seeker next to them. He raised his chin.

"Well, I think it's quite charming. Right Breaky?... Breaky?"

The seeker looked over and snickered at the bulky blue mech, who stared at the mech in the middle of the stage with an unhinged jaw. He looked completely enchanted. Knockout's faceplates turned to an expression of unbelieving shock.

"Breakdown! Are you _checking him out?!_ "

The Decepticon drummer instantly came back to awareness, optics back on his bonded.

"What? NO! Of course not Knocky! He's just... nice to look at is all."

" _Nice to look at_ —What does that make _me_?! A scrapheap?!"

Breakdown intensely shook his helm, guilt-ridden at the betrayed expression on Knockout's faceplates.

"NO! Of course not! You're not a scrapheap Knocky! I'm sorry I made you think that!"

Soundwave suddenly whirled around on the three mechs behind him, feelers hovering dangerously over them. His screen was lit up with an angry expression on it.

"DEMAND: SHUT UP."

The bonded pair wilted under the threat and Starscream scooted away, but all three were effectively quiet. Satisfied, Soundwave turned back around to watch the Autobot band.

_"If all of our days have turned to night,_   
_And all of our dreams are lost in lies..._   
_The stars can all fall!"_

As he hit the high key, Optimus' fisted servo shot into the air above his helm. His optics, now open and seemingly staring at a point beyond the swaying crowd, pulsed so bright that Megatron could've mistaken them for a spark all on their own.

_"And everything turned to grey:_   
_I will stay."_

His servo came back down, arm strut straight and slow moving as if he were pulling something from the air. With the last words, the rest of the instruments ceased at one, leaving only his voice to linger on the last notes, and the final hums of the keyboard. The audience erupted in an ecstatic chaos.

At the front of such an applause, Optimus Prime could only smile. Megatron watched as the singer's optics looked past the crowd, far past. All the way to the back where he was. Though he knew the Prime couldn't see him, he knew Megatron was there. His servo lifted from the mic, moving in a subtle wave, and the Kaonian felt his spark grow a little too big for its casing.

"Did he just _wave_ at you?!"

This time, it was Megatron's turn to whirl on the mechs behind him. Knockout and Breakdown both pointed their optics in the seeker's direction, not looking for a fight, and Starscream was pouting in the corner. That seeker was a little too observant for his own good.

"If you will not stop commenting on their performance, Starscream, _you can leave._ "

Starscream's faceplates slackened in a silent gasp, disbelief written over his optics. Then, they burned furiously. He huffed, crossing his arm struts over his chest plates as his wings stood all the way up on his back. But he turned back to the stage and did not speak again. Megatron watched him for another moment before rotating to face the stage again.

Something about Soundwave caught his optic on the way. His entire frame seemed stiff, and his face screen was locked on the stage. Megatron had known this Kaonian long enough to tell the difference between a relaxed and a tense state of being for Soundwave. This was high tension, reminding him of what he'd physically felt like the first time he'd seen Optimus sing.

"Soundwave?"

No answer. Not even a movement.

Curiously, he pinged his friend's comm link. It was a long klik before he answered the ping.

"What is it, old friend?"

Megatron asked quietly. Finally, that got a response: Soundwave's helm tipped slightly towards him. What he saw was a lit expression of two wide optics and a single line for a lip plate. The grey mech had not seen that expression in _eons_. It happened when Soundwave was surprised... Which never happened.

"Talk to me, old friend, what is it?"

Slowly, so slow it looked painful, his keyboard specialist raised a servo up and to his chest plates. Soundwave placed it over his spark.

"Soundwave: Attracted to member of Autobot band."

He responded breathlessly over the link. Megatron'sprocessor came to a full halt. He whipped around to stare at the other Kaonian.

" _Attracted_?! To which one?!"

Megatron hissed, finding it difficult not to shout as he looked to the Autobots and back in rapid succession. _It had better not be Optimus, for your own sake._ His spark was quick to respond possessively, but he calmed shortly after. Even if it was, he trusted Soundwave would respect the mutual spark that he could've clearly seen between the lead singers of each band.

The keyboard specialist's expression on the screen suddenly blinked into a smirk. A downright _evil_ smirk. It spooked him.

"Statement: Answer for Soundwave to know, and for Megatronus to find out."

He lifted an extremely suspicious brow plate at Soundwave, definitely not trusting it. The digital expression on the screen then dissipated, and the servo fell from his chest plates. His magnetic field brushed against the grey mech.

"Statement: Not Optimus Prime."

Only then did Megatron truly relax.

But that left the question: _Who?_


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as per a request, I am going to list the songs in this work up to this point. I will update the song list again after each next chapter. Here it is:  
> Chapter 2- Soundwave quoted "Lullaby" by Nickelback and "Face Everything and Rise" by Papa Roach  
> Chapter 4- Lyrics in beginning of chapter quoted (with a few edits for the story's purpose) "Porn Star Dancing" by My Darkest Days  
> Chapter 6- Lyrics sung by Bumblebee and Optimus quoted (with a few edits for the story's purpose) "Rock Show" by Halestorm  
> Chapter 7- Song sung by Optimus quoted "Don't Know How to Stop" by Halestorm  
> Chapter 8- Song sung by Megatron quoted (with a few edits for the story's purpose) "Silent Majority" by Nickelback  
> Chapter 11- The lyrics at the beginning are a surprise... (Don't shoot me, you'll see why later on) and the song sung by Optimus later on quoted (with a few edits for the story's purpose) "I Will Stay" by We Are The Fallen
> 
> Ok that's it for now. Thanks for reading, and I would suggest bracing yourself for the next chapter. Enjoy!

This was not how Optimus thought the third day of the Festival would begin for him. But, he probably should've expected it at one point or another.

He was running from Agent Fowler. Literally. Air wheezed through his vents as he took shelter behind another tent, silently cursing his life cycle up to this point. His Agent had been angry enough the cycle before at his direct defiance in performing a different beginning song than he'd requested. It hadn't helped that Smokescreen had finally made an appearance at the festival right after the performance, and Wheeljack had brought up the fight at the Tavern again. When both bots had started throwing punches, rolling around on the ground, and bumped into the agent making him accidentally hang up the call on his link; he finally blew his gasket. The band went to recharge with ringing and abused audials. Bumblebee and Bulkhead were terrified that their partners would be long gone by sunrise. And not even Ratchet could save the Prime from Fowler's threats of getting rid of the band if anything like this happened again. He knew the threats were valid and had not recharged well for another night cycle.

The next morning cycle, Optimus had been roused early and physically dragged from Motormaster by Fowler. His less than pleasant mood had not changed, and the others didn't even know he was gone. And after plastering a smile to his face and pushing through _another_ interview, he'd had it. The next ping that Fowler answered on his comm link and had turned away, Optimus seized and ran for his life. He didn't know precisely where he was going anymore, just that Agent Fowler was still following him.

"PRIME!!"

_And is catching up._

Realizing his mistake in stopping, Optimus jumped into a sprint and dodged between tents. If he looked terrified and was acting selfish in running, he did not care anymore. All he wanted was to escape his agent and—

He shouted in half shock, half terror when his arm strut was grabbed tightly, and he was pulled into a tent. A large servo covered his intake, and another long arm strut wrapped around his chest plates, pressing his back struts tightly against another's chest and preventing him from escaping. Shouting into the servo, his servos clawed at the arm strut and he thrashed to break free, but he was gripped tighter.

"Shhh, calm down."

_Megatron?_

He stopped shouting, optics glancing down to realize that the arm holding him was silver, and familiar. Relief washed over him in an instant as he relaxed into the other's hold.

"PRIME!!"

_SCRAP!_

His optics blew wide and he gasped into the servo, his own servos clawing and gripping at the Megatron's arm strut all at once. The grey mech responded by squeezing him minutely, walking him backwards quickly into a corner of the tent that was half covered by the structure's sturdy material pulled inwards.

"Shhh."

Was the only thing whistled into his audial. Agent Fowler then stomped into the tent, and his frame tensed. He stopped venting.

"Have you seen Optimus Prime?"

The merchant in the corner stopped counting the credits in his servos and he looked up calmly. It was only then that Optimus realized where he was; the tent where he'd discovered the grey mech's true identity. The poster screens of the Autobot and Decepticon bands still hung along the back wall.

"That depends, my friend. Do you mean in performance or in face-to-face interaction? Because I don't regularly interact with rock stars. I just sell their merchandise."

Fowler's shoulder struts tensed squarely, and he growled.

"Have you seen him run through here in the past few kliks? I'm his agent, and I'm looking for him. We're running late for an interview."

He ground out. The merchant he spoke to considered him for a moment before placing the credits in his servo back on the table and sitting up.

"Well in that case, you're in luck. I did just see him in the past couple kliks."

Optimus' spark flared in panic. Would the merchant give him away? From where he stood, he had a direct line of sight of them both. His digits curled even tighter around the arm they clung to, using every ounce of self-strength within him to not whimper. Megatron's arm squeezed him again.

The merchant then pointed in a direction close to the one he'd come in, just slightly to the right if his sense of direction was correct.

"He ran around my tent and headed back that way. I think he was a bit confused, didn't know where he was going."

Agent Fowler stood there for a long moment, staring down the merchant who didn't seem to be bothered by him in the least. Would he know it was a lie? Optimus could not be sure, and it scared him. Suddenly, Fowler's tense shoulders loosened, and he nodded at the merchant.

"Thank you."

Without another word, he turned on a heel to walk out of the tent. Optimus slammed his optics shut, hoping that his agent's optics wouldn't wander on the way out...

A long klik later, the merchant's voice cut through the stillness.

"You can come out now. He's gone."

His optics shuttered open as the servo on his intake left and the arm strut over his chest plates released him. Megatron nudged him out of the corner when he didn't immediately move.

"Are you alright?"

Wrapping his servos around himself subconsciously, Optimus looked up at the Kaonian standing close beside him. His optics were alight with worry. Drawing an intake of air through his vents to calm himself, he nodded.

"Thank you, Tron."

He said in a near whisper, truly grateful for his interference. Megatron smiled gently, placing a servo on his shoulder.

"You are welcome, Orion."

"Ok, I _know_ I introduced you two with your proper designations. Are these nicknames or an alias you're still keeping up?"

The merchant, who'd picked up his credits to count them again, sounded a bit exasperated. But not angry. Both singers looked at him for a moment before Megatron began to chuckle.

"They were originally aliases we used to shield our identities. But I think now they can be considered nicknames, what do you think Optimus?"

Said Prime thought about it before answering, if not a bit meekly.

"Yes, I suppose so."

Optics flashing with understanding, the merchant smiled at the Prime.

"I see your voice box has fully healed. Good thing too, I don't think that agent of yours would've had any better of a temper with you out of commission."

Optimus frowned at the mentioning of Fowler, turning towards the outside of the tent and scanning for any signs of him. The grey mech beside him followed his gaze, then turned to him again.

"You're sure you're alright?"

Honestly? Optimus wasn't so sure. Fowler could still be in close proximity, for all he knew, and it was making him nervous to leave. But his band still had no idea where he was, and by now they were probably wondering. He didn't know what to do.

Their resident merchant ended up answering that question.

"I have a few extra chairs, and they're not being used. Get back here and sit for a few kliks, Optimus. You look like you could use some time to calm your circuits."

Wordlessly, he followed the order, finding an extra chair that was a bit short for a mech his size. His legs stretched out in front of him and he leaned on them. Megatron had followed suit, and the way he had to awkwardly crouch to sit and then situate himself was quite comical. But afterwards, his servo found its way to Optimus' spinal strut, running up and down in a soothing manner. He smiled in thanks of the tender care.

"Now then, how did the two of you come to meet? That is a story I need to hear."

The merchant inquired, leaning back comfortably to watch them both while counting. Megatron's lip plates curled into a smirk.

"That depends, my friend. Do you mean before or after you introduced us to each other's true identities?"

Realizing what the Kaonian had done, the merchant laughed. His optics were lit in humor.

"How about both? I've got time, and it's not every cycle I get such interesting company as a pair of rockstars hiding in my tent."

***

"Megatron, what had you been doing at the merchant's tent so early in the cycle?"

The Autobot and Decepticon singers walked down the small road in the middle of the tents, not minding the fear of discovery when it was still before high noon. Most civilians would not arrive until the cycle winded down to the afternoon. Megatron's servos were wound behind his back, and he looked to the red and blue mech beside him.

"I'd been out for a walk at dawn to avoid the wrath of Silas when he onlined. My path took me past his tent, therefore I decided to pay the mech a visit. I find him good company."

Optimus nodded absently, thinking back to the pleasant conversation they'd all shared of the events at the festival so far.

"His composure is one to admire. As well as his skills in the act of persuasion; Agent Fowler cannot usually be fooled."

Megatron hummed. That brought another question to his processor, one that he had carefully avoided since their accidental meeting earlier.

"Perhaps the better question might be; what has Fowler done this time to have put you in a dead run across the festival grounds to avoid him?"

The Prime's optics turned away, staring ahead to avoid meeting the other's gaze.

"Agent Fowler has been in less than a pleasant mood since our performance last cycle... Such usually leads to his consequences."

Red optics narrowed slightly, knowing that his companion was avoiding the question. It brought a short sigh from his intake, and he stopped abruptly. Optimus also ceased abruptly, finally looking up at him to show his surprise.

"Optimus, I have seen quite a lot for a mech of my age. I have seen abuse before... And the events of this cycle have proved me right to call it so. This is nothing I will take lightly, so do not hide it from me."

His spark felt like it had risen to the bottom of his intake, making it nearly impossible to vent. It wasn't like the comm call from two cycles before. Back then he'd been safe on the other side of the link and they'd both come out of it in a joking manner. But here and now... This was serious. Megatron was serious. And it was _hard_ to speak of it to an outsider. Even if that outsider held his spark. It was so much easier when it was written into lyrics, and he could scream it to the world as loud and as painfully as he wanted. Not many would understand, but he never asked for someone to.

Now, someone did.

He steeled himself, curling his fists to grind out what he wanted to say.

"I will not let him hurt the others."

Megatron recycled his optics, not expecting the response he was given... But he should've. _Orion will worry over others long before he would himself._ Now he understood why Optimus was most often the victim. He'd put himself in his band's place for punishment. He'd done it for so long that it was _natural_ for Agent Fowler to go straight to him to take out his anger. How long did that actually take...? The thought was near horrifying.

"Optimus..."

"NO! I will NOT let him hurt them, no matter what happens to me!"

"I CARE what happens to you!!"

Silent shock overtook them both at their sudden burst of emotion, and they stood there staring at each other for a klik. But Megatron was quicker to recover, his face plates darkening and his voice deepening to a near growl.

"I may not be well versed in affairs of sacrificing oneself... But all Kaonians know the value of our life cycles. We do not let it pass by, we take it and cherish it for everything it is and could be. Because any cycle there could be our last...Optimus Prime, even in a lifetime that lasts eons, each cycle is important. And in three cycles, I've come to realize that finding you could be the best thing that's ever happened to me... Do not make the mistake in thinking that your injury, your _loss_ would not matter. It would matter to your Autobots. It would matter to _me_... Is that not enough?"

Optimus stared at him. Unmoving, and utterly _unbelieving_.

When the red and blue mech finally recovered, Megatron didn't have time to process what was happening until arm struts were wrapped around his neck cables on the inside of his spiked shoulder armor. An entire other frame was pressed tightly against him. It shook, but it held firm.

"It's enough."

He whispered, and Megatron's arm struts wrapped around him in turn.

For a long moment they stood there, enveloped in the hug with their magnetic fields flickering in the remnants of their emotions. Anger, hurt, fear, misery, but above all was relief. _You know. You understand._ They didn't have to know each other long to find the common ground they stood on. It was there, waiting for them to walk it.

"Hey you guys, come on! We have to pass the Golden Age booths to get to the next section!"

Red and blue optics widened at once. They'd forgotten where they were. On instinct, the Kaonian whirled them both behind the closest tent, eliciting a gasp from his companion, and glanced out as bots walked by. When they were gone, Megatron turned back to see Optimus blankly staring at him.

Then they laughed. _What a pair we make_ , the Prime thought to himself. One moment they were a whirlwind of emotions, the next they were right back into the habit of being famous, which included the art of hiding.

"I take it we must be near the golden age booths then?"

Said Optimus lightly. Megatron's servos were curled around his spinal strut, and his digits pressed lightly against it. It sent electricity up his nerve receptors, causing his spark to beat faster. It had nothing to do with the fact that he could not get used to the tall, handsome mech before him in such close proximity... Or so he told himself. His helm was ducked timidly.

Feeling the reverberation of the Prime's spark through their close chest plating had Megatron's logic circuits malfunctioning. He did not know why but did not question it. Instead he smiled at the other, taking mental note to how thin the other's waist felt under his strut.

"Yes, I would imagine so... We must add a good sense of direction to the list of the merchant's valuable traits."

He'd been the one to direct them this way, after all.

They were lucky no one was watching as they stepped out from the side of the tent. One would've thought from the way they were trying too hard to act normal, they'd done much more than a simple hug...But that was up for interpretation as Megatron thought about it.

The road ahead was growing livelier, but it wasn't as far as they thought it would be. Not when a certain tent attracted their attention, and the Kaonian's optics lit up.

"This is vintage high grade from Kaon! It's dated back to the Golden Ages."

"Kaon was a manufacturer of high grade?"

Optimus asked curiously, following in step as his friend took the cube of tinted energon off the shelf it had been placed on, marveling at it in no small amount of awe. Megatron turned and held it out to him.

"As the biggest mining district, Kaon used to hold the residence of the best high grade refineries on the planet."

With careful servos, he took the cube, amazed at the beautiful lightness the bottom of the liquid had taken over time. Megatron's digits hovered over its clear containment.

"However, after the election of our latest council representative and our economy crashed, most of the distilleries moved to Tarn."

"...But no matter how many Tarnians may deny it, high grade yet made in Kaon is still the best of its kind."

Optimus and Megatron were caught off guard by the merchant who approached them. He was tall like the both of them, but his armor was a simple rustic brown. By the sound of his raspy accent and the action of Megatron stiffening at his sight, Optimus assumed it was another Kaonian whom ran this tent.

"It's good to see a fellow home comer all the way in Praxus. Not to mention one with good taste, this batch is my personal favorite."

Megatron relaxed. This mech obviously did not recognize him. So, when a servo was outstretched towards him, he shook it heartily. Then his optics shifted to the red and blue mech beside him, and his smile widened.

"Ah, and of course I welcome your Iaconian companion. Would he like a sample taste? I've just begun to put them together."

The singers exchanged expressions, and Megatron smirked. Optimus did not like the mischief that was promised in the show of sharp denta.

"I believe he would. He's never tried Kaonian high grade, after all."

The merchant's optics lit up.

"Oh, then you've never lived, my friend. Come!"

Optimus cast a glance of narrowed optics at the grey mech, who in response winked and nudged him forward. A small clang followed as the Prime's elbow joint wacked him hard in the abdomen plating.

"Here we are! It'll be a small sample, of course. It's a bit early in the cycle for the 'happy groon.'"

If Optimus had been anymore of a well-mannered mech he once was, he would've sputtered and snapped back that he knew his own boundaries. As he was now, he only lifted a brow plate at the merchant as he took the small cube. Megatron waved his servo dismissively at the comment as the merchant poured him one as well.

"There'll be no need to worry about that. My companion is not well versed in letting himself have fun. Isn't that right, _Orion_?"

This time, Optimus shot him a glare as the grey mech laughed.

"I should throw you in the smelting pits for that."

He muttered, swallowing back a curse by tipping the cube back and onto his lip plates. A rich, fruitful tang danced over his glossa, taking his immediate attention to focus on it. After a long moment, it changed to a delightful sweetness that lingered even after it was swallowed. His optics widened immensely. It was unlike any high grade he'd ever tasted, even the vintage of Iacon.

"Primus below..."

The merchant and Megatron shared a knowing smile, glancing from each other to the red and blue mech that now stared at the rest of the small cube in near disbelief. Kicking his own cube of high grade back in one shot, Megatron's optics closed and he sighed in delight.

"It has been too long since I've had anything close to this kind of high grade... What do you think Orion?"

The Prime recycled his optics.

"I think that I have indeed never lived until now."

And he drank the rest slowly, savoring the taste for as long as he could. His companion and the merchant both chuckled before the merchant turned to Megatron.

"Might I assume you will be taking a cube of this for the road?"

The grey mech put up a servo and shook his helm with a small grin.

"We'll have to pass on that. There are many more booths for us to see and not enough groons in the cycle to see them."

Optimus nearly protested at that, very much wanting more of that high grade. But Megatron was right, and he followed the other in disposing of their cubes.

"Ah, I see. Well, in case you change your mind my friend, I'll be here. You and your companion take care now."

They nodded back in reply and stepped out of the tent, their glossas still tingling with the taste of the Kaonian high grade.

"If you are not going back to this booth before the end of the Festival, _I am_. Ratchet will be spark-broken if he doesn't taste high grade as exceptional as that."

Megatron snickered at Optimus' comment.

"At least you are a mech who appreciates quality high grade. Soundwave simply laughs at me whenever I rave about it."

The red and blue mech shook his helm in mild disbelief, his spark pulsing as he looked around at the booths that spoke of period of the Golden Age.

"Well then, Soundwave does not know what he's missing—By the Allspark!! Is that a Junkions' booth?!"

This time the Kaonian's optics blew wide, instantly standing at attention.

"Wait, what?! Where?!"

Thus, as Optimus sprinted to the nearby booth with Megatron on his heels, their adventure back in time began. The present slipped away into memory as the Golden Age formed around them from the simple tents of the festival. Like younglings at a carnival, they explored the sights of each booth and enjoyed the treasures of each merchant more than the last, and for a while forgot they were grown bots. It was a novel experience for them both.

"Orion, I've found 'Exile from the Well'!"

Megatron exclaimed inside one of the boots they'd momentarily stopped in. Optimus gasped, running over to see the aged covering of the data chip.

"That's the Metal Clones' best album! Has it included the extra track, 'Neither Primus nor Unicron'?"

Both pairs of optics scanned over the glyphs on the back before they both settled on a specific line and the both of them exclaimed gleefully.

"It has! To this cycle, I believe that is one of the best songs to have ever been written. The range of the notes hit within it is _incredible_."

Megatron lamented. Optimus threw his servos up and gestured at the album.

"How did they even _hit_ those vocal keys?! I can't hit _half_ as high without breaking a cord!"

"The last time I tried to hit those vocal keys, my voice box shorted out and did not reboot for two cycles."

They laughed and continued to babble over the album before another tent took their attention, and they were off again. Nearby, a couple younglings had been watching them. They did not understand what the big fuss was about this part of the rock and roll section of the Festival, and they did not know them. But these elder mechs were a stark difference to what they knew an elder should act like, excited at every little treasure they saw and magnetic fields buzzing with energy as they ran past. Concluding these mechs that acted as free-willed as them were weird, the younglings exchanged a glance and shook their helms before continuing on their way.

_"I think someone's trying to show us a sign_   
_that even if we thought it would last,_   
_the moment would pass."_

Optimus' optics widened as he spun around from the direction they were headed in, finding the sound of the music coming from a mech singing on the street corner. The mech must've been a new artist at the Festival, strumming what looked like an old guitar and sitting on a stool as he sang.

"Tron, that's one of _Alpha Trion's_ songs!"

Megatron looks up at the artist. No one seems to have taken much notice to him, the area around him is empty... He smiles at the red and blue mech as an idea comes to mind.

"Well then, we must not let this chance be wasted. Come dance with me, Orion!"

The Prime's optics blow wider as the Kaonian grabs his servo and makes him jog towards the artist. _Dance?_ Optimus has not danced in at least four millennium. At least not anything that joined two bots. Was Megatron asking him to waltz? His processor was quick to assume 'yes' as the grey mech pulled him to the empty area off the street besides the artist. He nervously ducked his helm.

"I'm... I'm afraid I'm a little out of practice, Tron!"

Recycling his optics, Megatron shook his helm with a smile at his companion.

"I do not believe this kind of dancing needs any practice, my friend."

His clawed servo wraps around the Prime's back strut and pulls him closer, his other servo taking hold of the Prime's and clasping them together. Optimus' other servo finds his shoulder strut, held in between the spikes in his armor. Then, Megatron pulls him to sway side to side.

_"And I remember the day when you left for Santa Monica._   
_You left me to remain with all your excuses for everything._   
_And I remember the time when you left for Santa Monica._   
_And I remember the day you told me it's over."_

"See? Not so hard, is it?"

There are no steps forward or backward as they sway. When they move, their peds shuffle in the rhythm of a slow circle. Optimus finds relief in this fact and follows Megatron's lead easily.

_"I wanted more than this, I needed more than this._   
_I deserve more than this, but it just won't stop._   
_It just won't go away!"_

_"It just won't go away."_

The Prime looks up as he hears the lyrics sung softly near his audial, and red optics are already watching him. Bashfully, he smiles, beginning to sing as well.

Around them, bots have started to take notice. What draws them to stand and watch is not the artist, even if the song is good. It's the couple dancing beside him, uncaring about the world in motion around them. They don't see it, but their onlookers smile and their magnetic fields pulse. It's not every cycle you find such a loving couple, or so they think to themselves.

_"And I remember the day when you left for Santa Monica._   
_You left me to remain with all your excuses for everything._   
_And I remember the time when you left it all behind._   
_And I remember the day you told me it's over."_

The song suddenly ended too soon, and around them erupted a small applause. Both singers looked around in an abrupt daze, trying to figure out when that crowd got there. The artist not too far away smiles and waves at the bots around him.

"Thank you! Thank you so much, how's everyone doing here at Music Fest?"

Bots whoop and cheer. The artist then glances over to the side, seeing the two tall mecha in each other's embrace. Having noticed them before out of the corner of his optic, he smiles and gestures over to them.

"How about this handsome couple over here, how are you doing?"

Trying to avoid the attention, both singers immediately ducked their helms away, but they didn't let go of each other. The bots around them 'awed' sadly, and the artist chuckled.

"Aw, come on, don't be shy. You're a little tall to try to hide."

Around them, bots laughed at the joke. Their shoulders shook as they chuckled, unable to resist it either. It was Optimus who's helm finally turned towards the artist first. Megatron, who's processor seems to be full of bad ideas, takes one on a whim. He steps back from the Prime and spins him. Gasping in surprise, Optimus almost doesn't regain his footing on the full rotation. Luckily, Megatron is there to catch him before he face plants into the other's chest. The bots around them whoop again and applaud.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!"

The artist compliments with a clap. Optimus stares up at the other with a winded vent, before he huffs.

"Give a mech a warning, will you?"

He whispers. Megatron winks.

"Now, where's the fun in that?"

The Kaonian whispers back. He rolls his optics at him before the artist speaks again.

"Just for that, this next one's for the handsome couple here. One of Alpha Trion's oldest, but certainly not forgotten songs. Femmes and Gentlemecha, here is, 'Wait for Me.'"

As his digits strike and strum the old guitar and the crowd applauds, Megatron and Optimus exchange an expression of wide optics. They knew this song, and they knew it well.

_"You are not alone, tonight._   
_Imagine me there by your side._   
_It's so hard to be here so far away, from you."_

Other bonded pairs around them move into the open area and begin their own dance. Megatron, who recovered from his surprise, smiles tenderly at his companion as he guides them to sway once again. And his deep voice sings the next lyrics.

_"I'm counting the cycles 'till I'm finally done._   
_I'm counting them down, yeah, one by one._   
_It feels like forever 'till I return to you."_

The Kaonian's arm around Optimus' waist pulls him closer, so close that their plating touches. Something about that voice draws the Prime into a lull that falls over his processor and brings his spark to life, because he forgets to be bashful. And his voice is the next to recite the lyrics.

_"But it helps me on those lonely nights,_   
_It's that one thing that keeps me alive."_

_"Knowing that you wait for me,_   
_Ever so patiently..."_

The chorus that the artist sings does not matter to Megatron, not when the red and blue mech's beautiful baritone vocals have recited the line before. Not when this beautiful mech's helm is now resting against his chest plating. What matters is slowing down their sway, almost to a stand-still, and thanking this artist mentally that he knew this song.

_"No one else knows the feeling inside._   
_We hang up our links without saying goodnight,_   
_because it's the sound of your voice that brings me home..."_

_Where have you been all my life?_ Optimus can only think, pressing against silver chest plating as his arm strut falls to lean against the other shoulder, and the Kaonian's arms come around him. Tenderly. Soothingly. Protectively. When was the last time he'd felt this safe?

_Magnus._

The designation came to processor, and his spark shuddered. Burying his faceplates against Megatron, he focused on the present. On the moment that was too fond to give away to hidden memories. On the moment that the Kaonian cherished him... Something that he hadn't felt from any other mech in a long time.

_"What I'd give. What I'd do._   
_Knowing I'm not there for you, makes it so hard to leave._   
_What I'd give. What I'd do._   
_Anything to get me home to you, and this time I'll stay."_

Megatron did not miss when the Prime's faceplates burrowed into him. _What are you thinking about?_ There were many possibilities he already knew of, and he wanted to ask. But he kept it to himself. He simply held his companion and hummed, hoping that somehow this would help to chase away what followed him.

_"Yeah, you're everything I've ever dreamed of having_   
_And it's everything I need from you just knowing that you_   
_Wait for me..."_

As the song ended, and the applause erupted, they finally stood still. Optimus looked up at the grey mech.

"Tron?"

Red optics were already focused solely on him.

"Thank you, for this cycle... I haven't had such a good time like this in eons."

Megatron chuckled quietly, his digits running up and down Optimus' spinal strut.

"Neither have I, Orion. I owe you thanks as well."

The silence that followed was another comfortable one, and they shared it fondly. The world and their lives had been forgotten. For a moment, it was just the two of them. A moment they would've been content to share for so much longer.

But then that moment ended.

Megatron's frame jumped when a call came in on his comm link, surprising his companion as well. Knowing it could only be one other code, the Kaonian smiled reassuringly at the red and blue mech, before slowly letting him go and answering the link.

"What is it, Soundwave?"

"Inquiry: Where in name of Primus have you been? Statement: Have been searching for you for seven groons."

_Is that how much time has passed?_ They had been so preoccupied that both of them seemed to have lost track of the time.

"Apologies, my friend. I've been with Optimus, and we lost track of time."

A long quiet followed his response. The Prime tilted his helm questioningly at him, but he could only shrug his shoulders. If there was anything Soundwave was not, it was predictable.

"Statement: Autobot back-up singer, Ratchet, requests Megatron to tell Optimus that he has also been looking for him."

He recycled his optics.

"Ratchet is with you?"

This time, Optimus recycled his optics. Both of them were shocked.

"Ratchet is with Soundwave?"

Megatron looked directly at his companion.

"Apparently so. According to Soundwave, he's been looking for you."

"Answer: Yes. Explanation: Met up with Ratchet while searching, decided to team up. Have been looking for Megatron and Optimus ever since."

The Kaonian sighed.

"I suppose this means we must find you?"

Another long quiet.

"Answer: Yes. Ratchet: is requesting you both meet Soundwave and him by 'Motormaster.' Ratchet: explains that Agent Fowler is not there, has not been there all cycle. States: Optimus will know where to go if Megatron mentions designation."

Megatron glances over at Optimus, nodding once.

"Understood. We'll be there soon."

He hangs up the comm link. Optimus' optics question him.

"Soundwave and Ratchet are requesting we meet them by Motormaster, Agent Fowler will not be there. Do you know where this mech is?"

The Prime nodded, not elated that their pleasant cycle had to come to an end, but thankful that he'd seemed to have spared his band the presence of Fowler for a while.

"Yes. They're back the way we came."

So, began the long trek back as they stepped away from the artist who still sung on the corner. They passed all the booths they'd previously visited, including the high grade booth, and the other merchant's booth they'd hidden in. But neither commented. The trip was spent quietly, knowing it would end in their next goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs from this chapter are as follows:   
> First song sung by the artist quoted "Santa Monica" by Theory of a Deadman (specifically, the acoustic guitar version)  
> Second song sung by the artist quoted (with a few edits for the story's purpose) "Wait for Me" by Theory of a Deadman


	13. Chapter 13

_Ah, so Motormaster is the Autobot's tour bus._

Megatron mused as they stepped onto the border of Festival grounds to the hidden site. The Decepticon's tour bus was named Streetwise, and like Fowler, had a temper. But he usually kept his grievances to himself, and therefore made for pitiful company on the way anywhere.

In front of the large, red and black tour bus stood Ratchet. His arms were crossed over his chest plates and there was a scowl present on his face plates, making the grey mech wonder if that same expression was just the way he always looked. Next to him, Soundwave stood with his arms at his sides and Laserbeak on his shoulder. His screen was blank, but his posture told Megatron that he wasn't all to happy either.

When the singers finally came to a stop in front of the pair, Laserbeak lifts off Soundwave's shoulder to swoop by Megatron and then up above them. Ratchet was the first to grumble.

"I online half a groon before sunrise to hear you dragged away by Fowler and hear nothing from you since. I've spent all cycle searching _the entire rock and roll section_ of this Festival! Do you _understand_ how worried I was, Optimus?!"

Said Prime sighed and smiled sadly at his friend, much better inclined to handle Ratchet's outbursts than his agent's.

"I understand. And I'm sorry, old friend, I should've contacted you after Megatron liberated me from Fowler in the early cycle."

Ratchet's scowl immediately disappeared.

"Liberated—What? What did you do _now?!_ "

He exclaimed, a growing fear in his optics. It was Megatron who answered.

"Escaped the clutches of your agent's wrath. He was at a dead run when I found him, with Fowler at his heels."

"Inquiry: _That's_ where you've been?"

Megatron didn't usually play hero for anyone. But the other Kaonian was noticing the subtle shifting in his lead singer's behavior since he'd met the Prime. Far from mellowed, but close to a hardened moral maturity. A silent strength that was beginning to show. For Soundwave, it was not an unwelcome change, and in that sense, he appreciated the Prime for it. Though he wished for his friend to stop running off every chance he got without telling him.

Soundwave didn't sound thrilled. But, there was something underlying in the tone. A hint of respect, if he guessed right. The corner of his lip plate curled up.

"Well that, and the Golden Age booths, my friend. I've finally found company who appreciates 'ancient rock records.'"

Soundwave's helm tipped minutely to the side, an almost unnoticeable change but one that told Megatron he was smiling. He looks back at Optimus, and decides it was time for the other Kaonian to formally meet Orion.

"I don't believe we've all been properly introduced, now have we?"

Stepping to the side between Soundwave and Optimus, he gestured one to the other and back.

"Optimus, this is Soundwave, my keyboard specialist and oldest friend. Soundwave, this is Optimus Prime, lead singer of the Autobot band and the true identity of Orion."

The Prime politely reaches a servo out to the mech, whom in turn takes it and they shake once.

"Statement: Pleasure to meet Optimus Prime. Soundwave: Glad that Megatron will finally stop ranting that no bot shares similar interest in music."

Optimus laughs and nods his helm.

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Soundwave."

The Prime then turns to Ratchet, who's watching the exchange grumpily, and his smile widens.

"In turn, Ratchet, this is Megatron: the lead singer of the Decepticon band. Megatron, I would like you to meet my back-up singer, keyboard specialist, and dear friend who assisted in bring the Autobots together—"

"Ratchet,"

The white and orange bot suddenly interrupted. Optimus did not seem to mind.

"and I do not approve of you."

Megatron knew he shouldn't have smiled at that, but he did, nodding his helm respectfully at the old bot.

"It's an honor to meet you formally, Ratchet."

Said mech snorts at that, sticking his helm up indignantly with a glare.

"Ratchet, my old friend, please do not be so harsh... He follows the Defenders of the Rust."

The old bot's grumbling expression disappears again. That low baritone was so near singing the sentence, Ratchet looked at him incredulously. It was the way Optimus usually persuaded him into doing something that included an aspect he would not admit to liking later on. This time, his favorite rock band hung in the balance. His optics shifted to the tall Kaonian, and they narrowed critically.

"Which was their best album?"

Megatron answered easily.

"Many would argue 'Spark Eater.' However, any true follower would know that their best album was 'Bleeding Bolts.'"

Ratchet's optics widened. _Huh, look at that. This mech does know what he's talking about._ And he wasn't smug at the old bot's expression, watching him with the same easy-going smile. Ratchet huffed, his arms falling to his sides before he pointed a digit at the other.

"Alright, Optimus, I see your point. And Megatron, I owe you my thanks for coming to Optimus' rescue. But you're going to have to do a lot better than that to receive my approval--"

"YOU FRAGGER! YOU, YOU AFT! YOU LYING SON OF A GLITCH!!"

All four bots jolt where they stand, whirling towards the angry and high-pitched voice that had interrupted them. It's the young black and yellow Autobot, striding angrily towards Motormaster with Smokescreen jogging at his heels. His wings are flat against his back, and his faceplates are trying to hide spark break with fury.

"Bumblebee?!"

Ratchet exclaims incredulously, both him and Optimus shocked to have heard such vulgar curses fly from his intake. Smokescreen grabs at his arm strut, trying to get him to stop.

"Honeybee, come on—"

Bumblebee tears himself away and plants himself in front of the racer. His optics are blazing with intense rage.

"DON'T YOU HONEYBEE ME! YOU LIED TO ME! YOU'VE BEEN CHEATING ON ME WITH THAT FEMME FOR AN ENTIRE ORBITAL CYCLE?!"

 _What...?_ Both elder Autobot's expressions turn to shock. Megatron and Soundwave can only watch in their own mute shock. Then, Optimus' fists clench.

Smokescreen laughs nervously, his servo rubbing the back of his neck cables.

"Well, I wouldn't say an _entire_ orbital cycle. She was a one time fling, compared to the others—"

"THE OTHERS?!"

Bumblebee screeches in disbelief, and Smokescreen's optics widen as he realizes his mistake. Ratchet glances over when he hears black smoke puffing out of smoke stacks.

"HOW MANY OTHERS WERE THERE, SMOKESCREEN?! HOW MANY OTHER BOTS DID YOU 'PROMISE TO BE THERE FOR NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS'?! HOW MANY OTHER BOTS DID YOU SAY, 'I LOVE YOU' TO WHILE I WAS GONE, PUTTING UP WITH AGENT FOWLER'S THREATS FOR YOU?!"

"Bumblebee..."

Smokescreen only had one moment to say the young bot's designation before something hard and powerful hit him on the side of his faceplates, knocking him to the ground and making his vision erupt into stars. When he came to a few moments after, his servo was already at the large dent that was implanted into his face. He sneered, looking up thinking Bumblebee had punched him, only to feel his energon go cold. His attacker was _much bigger_.

"... Smokescreen."

Optimus Prime's voice was a low growl. He stood over the young racer, lip plates lifted in a snarl and optics burning in blue fire. His chest plates were puffed, and his plating was flared.

"If you ever approach Bumblebee again... You can be sure that your body will never be found after they've assumed you _dead_. Because I'll have thrown you in an acid lake and watched you _scream_ while you melt into molten metal."

Terror flooded his spark, and before the racer could come up with a coherent thought, he was scrambling to his peds and diving into his alt mode. He drove away as fast as he could. Everyone else watched him flee.

Optimus watched the dust fly up from his tires, fists clenching and unclenching as he released a long vent and another puff of smoke went up from his stacks. Ratchet stepped up beside him and huffed angrily.

"I never trusted that youngling from the start... Good riddance."

Choked cries behind them catch their attention, and they turn to see Bumblebee's doorwings have drooped. His servos are at his optics, trying to wipe away the coolant that's falling onto his faceplates. Their sparks drop, and Optimus is the first to reach him with sad optics.

"I am sorry, Bumblebee."

The young mech feel's the Prime's servo on his shoulder, and he turns to sob against him. Optimus kneels to comfort him.

Meanwhile, Soundwave and Megatron still watch, rendered mute by the scene.

That was not a kind of anger he'd expected from the Prime. True, he'd gotten hints of it from moments here and there, and a clear sight of his protectiveness over his band. But that... That was cold fury from Bumblebee's sparkbreak hitting somewhere personal. Death threats were a strange fascination to Megatron, and sometimes he paid attention to them. Usually, when a mech wanted to hear the other scream, it meant great pleasure was taken from the suffering because of their own pain... Optimus was becoming a puzzle, a whirlwind of one. And he was missing pieces that pulled it together. He could only watch the red and blue mech stroke the young bot's spinal strut and wonder what he was missing.

Soundwave was gone.

"He doesn't know what he's lost, Bumblebee. Smokescreen will never find another bot like you."

Optimus quietly states.

"He probably doesn't even care!"

Bumblebee keened, burying his face in his servos as more coolant drips from his optics.

A light tap against the back of his servo drew them down so that he could peek over his digits. In front of him hung a small silver cloth, held there by thin pincers. He reaches out, gratefully taking the cloth offered and drying his silver face plates. The cloth feels soft against them.

"Thank you--"

His helm lifts up to properly look at the bot who handed him the cloth, only to be met by a long, purple and black striped feeler hovering in front of his face. The feeler waves there for a moment before dropping, and then he's met by a dark face screen... With a digital smiling face on it. Bumblebee doesn't know whether to be nervous or confused.

"W-Who are you?"

The mech takes a knee to even their heights, helping Bee to realize he's practically as tall as Optimus, but not trying to intimidate him. Then, the digital face disappears, and the face screen's dark exterior lightens. It lightens just enough that he can see two shining points of indigo staring back at him.

"... I am Soundwave."

The mech whispers. There's not much of it, but Bumblebee heard just a hint of the mech's voice in the back of that whisper. It was smooth, it was soft, and it didn't seem to belong to a mech as intimidating as him. The young bot's venting stutters with another small sob, but he smiles.

"I'm Bumblebee."

Optimus and Ratchet watch the exchange mutely. When the Prime glances over to Megatron, the jaw-slackened and wide-optic expression of shock he shows is quite comical. Clearly, this was one of the first times the Decepticon keyboard specialist had ever done this. Why for Bumblebee, no one knew, not yet at least. It's hard to Optimus not to laugh, so he smiles, casts his optics down and holds a servo over his lip plates. Ratchet is the first to speak.

"Bumblebee, I think you've been through enough for one cycle. In fact, I think we all have. Why don't we go find some rust sticks and energon in the pantry? Then you can tell us a little better what happened?"

A couple rust sticks sounds like a good idea. Sniffling, Bumblebee nods and Ratchet's arm strut wraps around his shoulders to guide him over to Motormaster's door.

Optimus stands, and turns to Megatron again. Said Kaonian's jaw clamps shut when he realizes the Prime is watching him. He chuckles quietly, then his digits lift to tap twice against his audial. Megatron figures out the question pretty quick. _Call?_ He nods, and watches Optimus join his other band members.

Bumblebee suddenly remembers the cloth still in his servo, stops in his tracks, and turns around to face the tall, dark mech behind him.

"I'm sorry, Soundwave. Here, this is yours."

The young bot holds out the cloth. Soundwave climbs to his peds, holds up a servo and shakes his helm. He whispers again.

"Keep it. It is yours now... Feel better, Bumblebee."

Holding the cloth closer to his chest plates, Bumblebee grins and nods in thanks. Then, he turns back to Ratchet, and all three Autobots disappear into their tour bus.

Megatron steps up beside the other Kaonian, optics shifting from him to the door that just closed behind the other bots.

"So... Bumblebee, huh?"

Soundwave didn't even tilt his helm in his direction.

"Answer: Yes."

Megatron shakes his helm slowly in disbelief as a chuckle winds from his intake.

"I have not heard you speak to another mech in a _long_ time, brother... You will never cease to surprise me, will you?"

The other Kaonian shifts and bumps Megatron's shoulder with his own.

"Statement: Spark resonance is a powerful force, brother. You should know."

Laserbeak is returning from his flight above them, perching back on Soundwave's shoulder. When Megatron realizes what the other meant, his expression falls into a deadpanned one.

"Shut up."

***

Laughter rings out into the late night cycle, barely kept quiet by its owner.

"Wait a klik, _what_ did Ratchet do when you told him about the high grade booth?"

Megatron chortled, leaning his helm back against the back wall of the bottom bunk.

"He grew jealous and blew up at me. His anger levels rose so quickly that his plating _actually_ started to steam... All I'd said was that I'd sampled a vintage batch from Kaon, and that he simply _must_ try it when he has the chance."

Said doc-bot still was not talking to him, and Optimus knew he would have to make it up to him the next cycle. His companion's rasp was a mere echo over the link.

"Threatening younglings with an acid corrosive death, _and_ provoking old bots over high grade? You are evil, Optimus Prime."

The Prime snickered, rolling over onto his abdominal plating. He seemed to feel restless in berth whenever he spoke to Megatron, even though that was only a second occurrence. He couldn't understand why.

"Hmm, and I take great pride in it. Be careful, Megatron, you may be the next victim."

"Oh, believe me, I was your first this week when we met at the Tavern... But speaking of younglings, how is Bumblebee doing? Soundwave and I felt rather sympathetic in what happened earlier."

Optimus' optics shifted to towards the top bunk across from his, where the young bot recharged quietly on his front. His wing twitched from where they were stuck up in the air, and the action made a small smile creep to his lip plates.

"He's still a bit distraught. But with time, he will recover... We also promised to perform his favorite song for our next performance, that also helped him to feel better."

Something tingled over his plating, not too much to be uncomfortable but enough to attain his attention. Megatron looked down, noticing Laserbeak was not at his peds as usual, but instead flapping his wings at him from Soundwave's berth. Said mech was laying on his side, facing him, and he knew Soundwave was definitely not in recharge.

 _Of course, you're listening in_. He smirked.

"That is good to hear. We will look forward to your next performance then."

The Prime was not yet used to the fact that Megatron wanted to attend his performances, when he felt the Decepticons outdid him by a mile's length. But his spark brightened all the same.

"Oh, do give thanks to Soundwave again for Bumblebee. He seemed a bit embarrassed to have been in such an emotional state to meet him but does in fact appreciate the cloth he was given. I believe he's currently placed it with his other significant keepsakes."

Beside the grey mech, a magnetic field flared out with a rare warmth, then settled into control. Laserbeak's wings fluttered again.

"I think Soundwave will be pleased to hear that..."

His red optics stared directly at a face screen. _Now stop it._ Shoulders shaking, Soundwave respectfully turned over to leave Megatron and Optimus' call in peace. Huffing a snort of satisfaction, the grey mech flipped over towards the window himself.

"So, tell me Optimus, what might you be doing this late in the cycle?"

Optimus' optics flickered towards the abandoned datapad lying next to him, those random lyrics still glaring at him, but with no progression made since. He sighed.

"... Trying to write a new song, with no progress."

Megatron's brow plate arched.

"Let me guess, it must be done by the end of the week. There is no other option."

Optimus arched a brow plate in turn, his lip plates curling up.

"Oh, you too Megatron?"

Said mech nodded on his side of their link, dragging his claws along the edge of the windowsill.

"But of course. Because 'a new song will be the tipping point we need to succeed in this competition,' or so Silas has repeated so _kindly_ to me since we've arrived."

He couldn't help a snicker at the Kaonian's words.

"Agent Fowler's opinion on the matter is worded almost precisely as yours... Has Silas also recited the number of votes your band has each night cycle before recharge?"

"Oh yes, and he calls it a 'pep talk.' I'd almost rather listen to his complaints about the lack of a new song rather than those."

They both chuckled. It almost felt surreal, how much they related to each other when they'd been on their own with these struggles since the beginning. Being able to talk about it with a mech that knew such a problem up and down, instead of another who could only listen and imagine, felt liberating to them both. But they wouldn't admit to it. Enough privacies of their lives had been admitted and acted upon in one cycle.

"... Would you like assistance with it?"

Megatron recycled his optics at the sudden question.

"What?"

Optimus leaned himself up on his arm struts to sit up. He hoped the tone the question was spoken in did not mean his companion was offended.

"Your new song. Sometimes, I seek assistance from the others when I'm halted in progress. Would _you_ like assistance?"

Truthfully, the Kaonian had never asked for help before. Not even from Soundwave. The mech was not gifted when it came to the written word... However, now he knew someone else who was.

"It would be appreciated... Perhaps this could be mutual, and I might be able to aid yours as well?"

Optimus hummed.

"Yes, that is a definite possibility... However, I believe doing this over our comm links would not be the best of ideas."

Chuckling at the blatant sarcasm in the sentence, Megatron's claws stop where they are on the glass.

"Very well then, my friend. Where would you like to do this?"


	14. Chapter 14

In the end, it was the Kaonian who suggested they meet at the abandoned tent by the stage. It had been Optimus to suggest the early light cycle, when they had no interviews for once, no performances until the evening cycle (at least for the Decepticons) and could sneak away without notice. That did not mean said Kaonian was inclined to agree with the timing. He yawned, sinking down on the bench in the back that was farthest away from the coming light of the day.

"Might I be correct in assuming you are not a morning bot, Megatron?"

Optimus chided. He received a tired glare from bleary optics.

"I am only a morning bot when I decree it. Such is why Silas has learned to wait to bother me until after the high noon cycle... You however, seem to have no such problem with being online at this pit-forsaken groon."

The Prime's shoulders lifted in a shrug before he turned to sit next to the grey mech.

"A habit from past eons in an early-rising city, I suppose. I also recharge lightly, it does not take too much for me to online."

A trait he never had liked. He carefully avoided the fact that he almost always had trouble recharging at night.

"Lucky you then..."

Megatron mumbled, then focused his sluggish processor on digging around his sub-space.

"Shall we get to work?"

Optimus nodded, opening the subspace compartment in his lower arm strut to find the datapad he'd stowed in there. But he set it aside for the time being. They were there because Megatron had agreed to it first. So, he waited and watched as silver claws fumbled with their own datapad, clicked it on, and red optics recycled at the light now blaring at them. He couldn't help a quiet chuckle.

"This is what I have so far... Usually, it's much more organized. But my thoughts with this piece have come in scrambled order."

Taking the datapad handed to him, the Prime's optics scanned over the words that were there. The sentences were spaced evenly apart, but like Megatron had said, their ideas were scattered.

_Every brick and every stone of the world we made will come undone._

It sounded like the beginning of a story told in reverse, and it prompted confusion. Swinging one ped over the other, Optimus moved onto the next line.

_Let it all fall down to dust, you can't break the two of us._

Ok, now he had a point of focus. This sounded like two characters in the midst of a world crumbling around them. A world they had apparently created.

_If I freeze, you are the flame. You melt my spark, and I am washed in your rain._

This character brought him warmth. Warmth, and relief from what he seemed to be describing was a cold reality of life—Wait a klik.

_I will burn for you, as your love burns within me, with fire and fury._

He was analyzing the beginnings of a love song. A _beautifully_ worded love song. His spark pulsed, and he hid a gasp with the action of clearing his intake as he realized that these lyrics were talking about _him_. And he _liked_ _them_.

"... Megatron, you did not mention that this was a love song."

Said mech hummed, lifting his chin off of his servo to peer over the Prime's shoulder at the datapad. He was still in a dazed state.

"Neither did you mention what yours may tell, Optimus... Is it really so horrible?"

Immediately he shook his helm, rotating around to face Megatron.

"No! It's not! It's quite the opposite, actually. It's..."

The Kaonian's dazed state fell away as he watched the other trail off, his optics lowering back to the datapad.

"... It's quite beautiful."

Megatron slowly smiled. _So, you figured it out._ Judging by the way his companion was bashfully trying to hide a smile of his own, he could safely infer that Optimus had realized whom he was speaking of. He only regretted that this sounded more like a half-written poem than a true song.

"Thank you... Though I don't believe it will improve unless you give it pointers for improvement."

The Prime kept silent as he read over the lyrics again. They both knew that out of the two of them, Optimus had much more experience in these softer, spark-sung messages meant for only one bot, not a million. _One bot, or two perhaps..._

"Megatron, I think you should try to write this from two points of view."

The grey mech's helm tipped to the side in question. Optimus then pointed to the second line on the datapad.

"You've written about two bots in what you have attained so far. I believe that to achieve what you wish with this message, you should expand the point of view of this song to both bots. You've already written from your own."

All the Prime got in response was a blank stare, blatantly asking the 'what' question hovering between them. He sighed, shaking his helm. _Clearly, he's never written a love song before._

"Here Megatron, let me provide you an example. Sing this lyric."

Tapping the cursor, he quickly made a change to the end of the sentence he was looking at, then pointed at the first line. Megatron recycled his optics, looking at Optimus and the datapad twice in succession. Said red and blue mech watched him curiously.

"Do you not have a vocal key range in mind for it yet?"

Megatron shook his helm.

"No, I do. But... you want me to sing it right now? When it has no other accompanying verses?"

The Prime rolled his optics with a smile, seeming to sense his hesitance.

"Yes, right now. Yes, with no other accompanying verses. I'm trying to prove a point to you."

Taken aback by his companion's hardened resolve with the problem, he sat up straighter and cleared his intake to do the chosen low vocal key properly. Optimus watched him glance at the datapad, not looking at it himself.

_"Every brick and every stone of the world we made,_   
_will come undone, if I..."_

_"If I can feel you here with me."_

This time, it was Megatron's turn to whirl on his companion as he sang one octave higher than him, the baritone raised in a lightness that complimented the chosen words charmingly. He stared at the other, whom simply smiled at him with an 'I told you so' glint to his expression.

"Now, sing this lyric. Same key."

Megatron's optics slid down just in time to see the Prime edit the end of the sentence once again. He didn't protest this time.

_"If I freeze, you are the flame._   
_You melt my spark, I'm washed in your rain, I know..."_

_"You'll always have the best of me."_

As Optimus' voice rung pleasantly with the last word of his newly-created line, Megatron began to see what he was getting at.

"See? This story is best told from two perspectives. Now for this one..."

The red and blue mech's digits tapped away with the cursor, splitting apart the last line and adding back onto it. All the grey mech could do was watch as all but four lines he'd written came to life, and as the lyric currently being re-written, was turning into what looked to be the chorus.

"For this one, start in a normal range, then dip low at the end of this line. At the next two, rise back up. And then repeat the succession."

Glancing over the newly constructed words, his brow plates furrowed. But he went with it.

_"I will burn, I will burn for you..."_

_"I will burn, I will burn for you..."_

Megatron's optics blew wide again, staring up at the mech who sang with him in his own higher octave.

_"With fire and fury,"_

_"Fire and fury."_

_"Fire and fury."_

They sounded good together... _Really good_ , he thought to himself as he sang the first line, and Optimus joined him on the repeat. They glided up and down three vocal notes, bringing them together in a harmony that neither of them had heard of before.

_"My spark hurts, my spark hurts for you..."_

_"My spark hurts, my spark hurts for you..."_

Repeating the original notes, it was Megatron's turn to smile as his processor came to understand the power these repeating words had in the chorus.

_"Your love burns within me...."_

_"With fire and fury."_

_"With fire and fury."_

When they ended, red and blue optics had already abandoned the datapad to find each other. They stared a bit longer than they should have, and Optimus' gaze was the first to drop timidly. Megatron leaned forward and tipped his helm slightly down to watch him focus on writing the new lyrics on his datapad. His spark felt warm, and too large for its casing.

"I have seen you perform twice already, and still cannot process how well you help a written piece to embody the emotions that moves your audience. You have a true gift for capturing a story, my friend."

Glancing over at the grey mech that almost hovered over him, Optimus tried to ignore the pleasant feeling that came with his closeness. In response, he finished one more edit and held the datapad out to his partner.

"Thank you... You'll have to organize your verses into a more chronological order. But now that you see my point, do you understand what you must do?"

Taking the datapad back, Megatron skimmed over the newly formatted verses and put away the fact that the Prime wasn't taking his compliment to spark. Oh well, he would prove his own point before this Festival was done. Now that he'd gotten his helm put back on track, he could finish these lyrics later.

"Yes, I understand. And I thank you, Optimus... Though, didn't we agree that you needed assistance as well?"

_Oh, right_. The Prime had nearly forgotten about his datapad sitting on his other side. Picking it up, he held it out for the Kaonian to see.

"Mine is not so nearly as organized as usual either. Forgive me."

Megatron took the datapad in one servo, and read the lyrics. Then he read them again. One of his brow plates arched, and he read the lyrics a third time. At first, they confused him. Each sentence was appealing to the experienced optic, but they didn't have much of anything to do with each other. _Hmm_. This, he had to think about. _Faith is like a fire..._ There had to be something he was missing. Like the final piece to a puzzle. _Feels like thunder..._ The more he thought about it, the closer he came to a sudden realization that there indeed was something he was missing. A hidden meaning inside the meaning of the message. _You can take my spark. You can take my breath..._ Then it hit him. Right in the spark. It honored him greatly.

"It seems like a love song at first glance... But I sense a deeper meaning to it that you haven't even noticed yourself."

At first, the Prime recycled his optics. Then he hummed, musing over his companion's comment.

"Yes, I suppose you're right. But what would it be then?"

Megatron's smile widens into something almost sinister, and it immediately leaves him nervous.

"From my point of view, it looks like the very beginning of a message of uprising."

Optimus' optics blow wide.

"Uprising?!"

He whips back to stare hard at the lyrics he's written, skimming them over again. _Well, I suppose... He has a point._ But uprising... Oh Primus, to write such a song as Megatron could? He stutters in response.

"How could this--How would I even begin to write a song of revolution? I've never done it before!"

The grey mech fought the urge to give Optimus a deadpanned look as a certain first performance came to processor. _You just crossed a borderline... So give it up and don't be_ _scared of how good it feels._ True, it wasn't exactly the same as what he wrote, but it was close enough for the both of them to go off of.

Smirk softening to a genuine smile, Megatron placed a servo on the Prime's shoulder.

"Oh, but I believe you have... It's quite easy, actually. You simply think of everything you want to say to the mecha you hate the most."

***

_"Addressing those beneath from high above._   
_Convincing his belief for what you love._   
_Baiting every hook with filthy lies,_   
_Another charlatan to idolize."_

"You know guys, I think I got a good nickname for them. The Cons!"

Bulkhead exclaims from the bench in the second row. Arcee turns around from her seat on the first bench to raise a brow plate at the drummer.

"The Cons?"

"Yeah! Their name is the Decepticons, so it's like an abbreviation. Plus, we hear it from Fowler all the time, he calls every bot that."

Bumblebee glances over at the green bot he's sitting next to as the femme stares at him for a long moment. After that, she rolls her optics and spins back around.

"I thought Optimus listened to Fowler too much. At least he doesn't have a choice in the matter."

Bulkhead's optics narrowed, and he crossed his arm struts over his chest.

"Not funny, 'Cee."

_"You pay with your life_   
_The duller the knife, the longer it takes!"_

_"The longer it takes!"_

_"But now it's your turn_   
_The ashes will burn, and wither away..."_

The sudden dark turn of the lyrics roused both bots from their conversation, and they looked up at the stage in the distance. The red light flooding the stage and the top of the crowd lit the night like a beacon, countering the blackened tone Megatron's words seemed to take. Echoed by Starscream, the song hit them with an eerie punch. But that did not stop the Autobot's lead singer from paying close attention, watching how the other's claws curled at the crowd to influence his words. He wouldn't admit that he kept getting distracted by the sigil on Megatron's chest, glowing like a chaotic spark.

_"Leaving your struts out on the stones, picking them clean!"_

_"Picking them clean!"_

_"And carving the truth, while harvesting you to feed the machine."_

_"To feed the machine."_

Those murderous red optics stared beyond the crowd in the direction of the abandoned tent, and Optimus felt his spark grow hot and leap.

"Wow... They're really good at performing."

Bumblebee mutters with fluttering doorwings, completely absorbed into the performance. When Ratchet looks over his shoulder at the young bot, he notices his direct line of sight to the faceless Decepticon at the keyboard on the far left, feelers waving aimlessly in the air to give him a more intimidating look. The old mech snorts a laugh.

"Only one cycle after breaking up with Smokescreen, and you're already smitten with another mech."

The young bot gasps, looking at the snorting doc-bot with offended optics.

"I am not!!"

"You are in denial."

"I am _not_!!"

Ratchet sighs to derail more laughter, but the knowing smile in his optics does not disappear.

"Say what you might, Bumblebee. I know you quite well."

The young bot's doorwings twitch and flatten.

_"Why must the blind always lead the blind?"_

_"Get back in line! Get back in line!"_

_"Why do I feel like the fault is mine?"_

_"Get back in line! Get back in line!"_

Megatron strode over the stage, gesturing to the crowd as he _pleaded_ his questions in the Kaoni rasp. Starscream's echo screeched over each one, coming into play as the position of authority they spoke out against. Like a slave and their master. A worker and their ruler. The abused, and the abuser.

_"Why must the weakest be sacrificed?"_

_"Get back in line! Get back in line!"_

_"No more questions, get back in line!"_

_"Just get back in line!"_

The Decepticon singer finally growled, the sound traveling through his microphone in a ground-shaking vibration.

_"Pay with your life!_   
_The duller the knife, the longer it takes..."_

_"The longer it takes."_

_"But now it's your turn_   
_The ashes will burn, and wither away..."_

_"Wither away."_

_"Leaving your struts out on the stones, picking them clean..."_

_"Picking them clean."_

_"And carving the truth, while harvesting you to feed the machine."_

_"To feed the machine."_

A collective roar rises from the ground up, signaling the crowd's cheer at the end of the song. Megatron's fist rises in the air as he looks out over the masses, and the other members of his band share a smirk. It must've been one of their favorite songs to perform.

Ratchet, however, is not so nearly thrilled about it.

"Optimus..."

He trails off. Said mech looks over to see his friend's unhinged jaw.

" _This_ is the mech you've befriended? _This_ is the mech that helped you get away from Fowler last cycle? He's... He's insane! His songs bring our very existence into question!"

Doc-bot near shouts, throwing his arms up in a state of what Optimus could've called strong detest. Arcee looks up from her seat on the bench to the Prime.

"I'm going to have to agree with doc-bot on this one, Optimus. Even for rock and roll, that's pushing it."

Arcee admits. Ratchet's staring at him with a sort of condescending anger. Even Bulkhead seemed to have become nervous, twiddling his digits behind them as he looked back and forth between the three bots. Optimus protests before his logic circuits can catch up.

"But is that not the purpose of rock and roll? To push limits, to question our life cycles? To speak out against all else because no other music will?"

Ratchet opens his intake to speak, but whatever he was about to say gets caught up halfway. The anger in his optics begins to deflate, and Arcee exchanges a thoughtful expression with Bulkhead. As the corner of his lip plate lifts, Optimus places a servo on Ratchet's shoulder.

"He is not insane, my old friend. He's simply speaking out..."

The lead singer of the Decepticons takes a few steps back from the edge of the stage, that same fiery rage still blazing against the red light surrounding him.

"... To a world that refuses to listen to him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics Optimus and Megatron were discussing in the beginning of the chapter... They cannot be revealed yet, sorry ;)  
> As for the song Megatron sang in the second half, he quoted "Feed the Machine" by Nickelback


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourself. This one's gonna be a whirlwind.

_*Sixth day of the Music Festival*_

"PRIME!!"

Optimus freezes in place, the others nearly running into his back struts as they walked tiredly off Stage 4. The noise pounding in their audials faded, and the ache in their frames was quickly ignored when they all caught a glimpse of a familiar short bot stomping their way.

"Oh scrap."

Bulkhead curses, grasping his drumsticks just a bit too tight from the way they creak in his servos.

Agent Fowler marches up to Optimus, immediately grabbing his servo to yank the lead singer downwards to his level and shove a digit into his chest plates.

"The Decepticons! You just _had_ to go and tie for the final round _with the Decepticons?!_ Silas will not let me hear the end of it, and it's all your fault!!"

_What?_ Pain receptors flared at the crushing grip on his wrist. Optimus fought off a grimace but couldn't help the frown that came with his confusion.

"Agent Fowler, I do not know what you mean—"

"Did you _ever_ pay attention to any of the times I told you the count of your votes? You have been neck-and-neck with that band since this festival began. Now, the final count has been announced, and you and the Decepticons have tied for the top vote!!"

He snapped, releasing the Prime's servo to rant at him with waving arms. Optimus recycles his optics a beat before the others behind him do.

"Wait a klik. You mean... We're in the exclusive concert next cycle? We're finalists for the world tour?"

Arcee spits out slowly. The questions process, and everyone stares at their agent in a long moment of stunned shock.

"PIT YEAH! GUYS, WE DID IT!"

"WE'RE ALMOST THERE!"

The already noisy space backstage erupts into mayhem when the Autobots come out of their shock. They jump, shout, laugh, cry out, and hug each other in joy. Even the doc-bot runs up to tackle Optimus into a hug, eliciting another audible gasp of surprise from the Prime that ends in the both of them laughing as they fall to the ground. Fowler grumbles at the scene, crossing his small arms over his front.

"How many times have I said already that being on the ground is bad for your public image?!"

Ratchet takes the moment to glare up at their agent from where he sits on the ground.

"Get fragged. I'm still eons older than you! We deserve a chance to celebrate!"

By now, his own quiet euphoric laughter has subsided, and Optimus rolls over next to the doc-bot to pull his peds under and push himself up.

"My apologies, Agent Fowler, but Ratchet has a—"

His speech comes to a grinding halt, and he stops where he is on a knee. _Wait a klik._ He runs his agent's rant through his processor again, and he quickly turns to Fowler.

"Agent Fowler... We've tied with the Decepticons, you said?"

The short mech rolled his optics dramatically at the lead singer, seemingly exasperated by his state of slow realization.

"No you moron you tied with Grimlock and the Dinobots—Yes you've tied with the Decepticons!! You'll be performing against each other next evening cycle for the world tour! And frag it all, Silas would not let me hear the end of it..."

He muttered the last part, servos coming up to rub circles into the sides of his small fore helm.

_Against... the Decepticons._ All the joy Optimus felt is immediately washed away by the implication of the statement. His spark sinks to the bottom of his tanks. Suddenly, trying to get up the rest of the way to his peds is a lot more daunting of a feat then he expected. _No! I cannot just fight the Decepticons! I can't..._ His helm turns towards Ratchet. His expression must've changed more drastically than he thought, because doc-bot's demeanor changes as well. His optics are startled and underlined with sympathy. _I cannot_ _fight Megatron..._ Turning the other way towards the others, the first of them he sees is Bumblebee. The young bot's expression captures a similar glimpse of how he felt in that moment. Soundwave... _We cannot fight them._ He lifts himself to his peds.

"Agent Fowler, I—"

"Ah, well look at that! Just the mecha I wanted to see!"

For the third time in that groon, Optimus is cut off. However, this time it's sucked back in as an astounded vent. All bots in the room turn to see none other than Alpha Trion walking into the area, once again. There's a hint of pride in his step that the Prime hadn't noticed before as the elder looked upon them all with a gleaming grin.

"Alpha Trion!"

Ratchet nearly chokes on his exclamation. The elder turns to him and the band, bowing his helm in a respectful nod.

"Hello, my kind friend. It's good to see all of you after an exemplary performance. I congratulate you on making it as a top finalist!"

Everyone's stunned by the 'secret' judge's compliments. Bashful, they all smile and gaze at him with a small 'thank you' collectively replied. Then, Alpha Trion turns to the Prime.

"Hello, Optimus."

_By Primus, Alpha Trion's talking to me again._ He manages a small, flimsy wave that the elder chuckles fondly at. He turns to the others.

"You know, might I have a word with Optimus in private? One old Rockstar to another?"

_A word in private--!_ The Prime is thunderstruck, jaw unhinged. He turns to the doc-bot for help, or at least anything to bring him out of his stupor. What he receives is a sideways smirk and a flashed wink.

"Well, you heard him. Come on guys."

Ratchet ushers the others out, their excited voices picking up in volume when they've left the space. Agent Fowler stays where he is, steadfast as ever. Alpha Trion's optics flash, seemingly not impressed.

"That means all agents as well."

He says shortly. The agent can only pierce them both with a death glare and sneer. But his arms fall to his sides and he walks out after the other Autobots. It leaves Optimus and Alpha Trion alone. Still stuck in stupor, Optimus smiles nervously in the presence of the idol. Alpha Trion chuckles again at the young one's actions and tips his helm in the other direction.

"Walk with me, my young friend."

***

"We've done it!! We've made the top two!!"

The merchant looks up from the datapad in his servos. Megatron all but skids to a stop in his tent, his chest plates heaving air and his face plates beaming excitement. It makes the merchant smile.

"So, I've now heard, congratulations my friend. Do you know who you'll be competing against for your last performance?"

Megatron shrugs, vents still working overtime to catch up from his sporadic sprint.

"My agent wouldn't say, but the frag if I care! They'll stand no chance against us!"

Arching a brow plate, the merchant picks up his datapad and begins to type away at it.

"I could look it up for you, if you'd like? The official announcement should be posted—"

"Has Optimus performed yet this cycle??"

Taken aback at being cut off, the merchant glances up at Megatron who's shaking from exhilaration. He looks back down at the datapad.

"Yes, actually, his performance just ended a few kliks ago... Ah, here we go, the top two finalists are the Decepticons and—"

The Kaonian has no patience to wait, bouncing back into action and jogging backwards out of the tent.

"I must go share the good news with him! Thank you, my friend!"

"Megatron, wait a moment!"

But the grey mech's long gone, sprinting through the tents as fast as he can towards the stage once again. The merchant sighs, gazing at the announcement of the finalists on the screen.

"... This can only end badly."

***

A full circle around the backstage area is spent in quiet before Alpha Trion speaks.

"You know, Optimus, you remind me a lot of myself when I was your age."

Recycling his optics in surprise, the Prime stares at the elder Rockstar.

"I do?"

Alpha Trion smiles and nods.

"Oh yes. I was wild back in my eon. I'd attended the Iaconian Academy, and was set to become Master of the Data Archives... But I didn't want that, you see."

The elder's optics travel to the far wall, gazing ahead without looking, as if caught in a memory.

"I wanted freedom. And I found that freedom in rock and roll. When I began to perform it, that freedom became _power_. I could sing, scream, and shout what I wished to the crowds. No one would question it, no one would question me... Instead, they liked it. They demanded more, and in turn they lifted me to the place I now hold among the stars."

***

The other members of the Autobot band had been standing outside, and they had been jabbering away excitedly about something. Megatron could've cared less. He was there to find Optimus. So, he ran right past them, leaping onto the stage from the front and jogging behind the black wall that hid the backstage area. The Prime had to be here somewhere, he just knew it.

"... in turn they lifted me to the place I now hold among the stars."

_That voice...!_

He slides to a stop where he is by the back wall, optics scanning over his surroundings until he sees where the voice came from. Two bots, strolling past backstage. Optimus, _and Alpha Trion!_ Forcing himself to not gape at the sight, he curses and whirls back around to the other side of the wall, pressing up against it to stay hidden from sight. Taking a long, deep vent to quiet his winded vents, Megatron slowly peers out from behind the wall. Optimus and Alpha Trion have stopped walking, to stand right in front of the wall he's hiding behind.

"... And I suppose that's how I got here to this cycle, with you."

***

"You have a true gift, my friend. And I believe in this gift, we are the same."

The elder suddenly grips his arm struts. Not anything like Agent Fowler, but still firmly.

"I want to see you take this world tour, Optimus. I want to see your band thrive and conquer Cybertron, as mine once did. I want to see the freedom you find in this career, become the power to stand as one of the greats... From an old, rusting mech like myself to a young, aspiring artist like you; I will admit I am leaning towards your win."

_What...?_

His processor falters, trying to rerun the memory file of what was just said to prove it was not false. When it does, his face plates fall into disbelief. Whether good or bad, he does not know. All he can do is stutter a response.

"B-But, Alpha Trion... With all due respect, I am greatly honored by your praise. But what about the Decepticons?"

The smile on the elder's lip plates fades, and his servos fall away. He sighs.

"Ah yes. The Decepticons."

His tone has turned solemn.

"If I may let you in on a secret, Optimus, I commend them on their performance. Truly I do! They deserve the votes they received... But I'm afraid that is where my praise will end with them."

Alpha Trion pauses before continuing.

"The pieces they perform... Even I wasn't so stupid to write such perilous messages. Or brave, I suppose, it depends on how you look at it. But their vicious, risky, they're _dangerous_. Megatron's work is disrespectful, volatile, shameful and hardly ever speaks of compassion towards others. They speak of overthrowing Cybertron itself! It is a long and precarious road they walk with such songs, Optimus. And I am not one to envy them of their journey ahead."

***

His servos are shaking. His chest plates shuddered.

How long had he been standing there? Was he even still standing?

Megatron was dumbfounded. He was outraged, unnerved, and stunned. He was shaken to the core of his spark. All he knew for sure was if he didn't get out of there, he would do something drastic that he would regret later on.

Fighting savagely against the coolant he felt rising to his optics, Megatron turned on a heel with a strangled snarl. He walked back out the way he came.

The Kaonian did not look back, not even when his spark swore to the Pits he'd heard the Prime calling his designation from a distance.

***

Optimus was so taken aback by Alpha Trion's words that he cannot reply.

How could the living legend think so _cruelly_ of Megatron's work when he thought it was some of the greatest he'd ever seen?

"Oh! Excuse me for just a moment please!"

The elder suddenly says, turning away as his digits come up to his audial at the comm call that's pinging him.

"Yes?... Right now? I was in the middle of a chat... Oh then fine, I suppose... Yes, I'll be there in a few kliks."

His digits fall away, and Alpha Trion turns back to Optimus with a sad smile.

"I'm afraid I'll have to cut our chat short, Optimus. I sincerely apologize."

Stepping up close enough that Optimus has to look up to meet his optics, the elder's servo comes to rest against his cheek plating in a formally kind gesture.

"Rest well this night cycle. I look forward to seeing the Autobots grace the stage."

And with that, Alpha Trion walks away towards the hallway of the dressing rooms, leaving Optimus to process everything that just happened.

He did not want to fight the Decepticons... But did he have a choice now? Would the fight even be fair? Or maybe the better question was... Would it have ever been fair anyway, even without the Autobots?

That's when he heard it. It came from the wall by the stage, eliciting his immediate attention. It sounded strangled and choked, like a sob that had been twisted into an angry bark. It sounded painful, and the only source he could track of the sound was a flash of silver that disappeared all too quickly.

His spark dropped to his peds.

"Megatron...?"

He whispered lightly, following the flash of silver out from back stage and onto the main platform. There in the distance, walking towards the tents with quickened stride, was the back of a tall and silver Kaonian. Optimus gasped loudly, and his optics widened.

"Megatron!!"

He shouted, running to the far edge of the stage in a desperate hope the other would hear him. But the other did not turn back. Silver backplates disappeared into the maze of tents. Optimus' spark twisted.

"Megatron!! Wait—"

"Oh no you don't!!"

Optimus' sore wrist was grabbed by a crushing servo that stopped him from leaping off the stage, yanking him back towards the way he'd come.

"You are NOT running off again!!"

"Let go of me!"

He cried, struggling against the grip. But the digits only curled in further on sensitive wiring and he was forced to stagger behind Agent Fowler.

"You think I'm a fool, Prime?! You think I would leave you on your own with Alpha Trion, so you could sneak away to chase that brunt of a Decepticon?! Well, think again!!"

The other Autobots were nowhere to be seen, at least, not that he saw. If they'd been near and seen him, he wouldn't have been able to see them with his optics becoming hazy with coolant. The grip on his wrist had become so tight that his plating creaked under it, and he could feel the warm energon pooling from where the plating broke and wires snapped. Pain throbbed through his arm strut and he croaked at it. Kliks that passed by felt like groons, but eventually Optimus looked up to see the blurry form of Motormaster in his vision. None of the other Autobots were to be seen.

When Motormaster's door opened, he was dragged through it, and the servo on his wrist finally released him as he was literally thrown inside. Optimus stumbled forward, crashing into the table and then falling to the floor with a yelp. Fowler stood over him, glare turned deadly.

"So, you've become Alpha Trion's favorite."

Slowly, he turned his helm towards his agent above him, trying desperately to cycle away the coolant in his optics so that he could see if Fowler would try to grab him again.

"Let's keep it that way... And let's keep _you_ from that Con."

The agent turned on a heel, walking back out of the tour bus.

"Motormaster, you will lock all doors and windows when I exit. Optimus is not to be let out under any circumstances except my own."

The bus's magnetic field flared.

"But sir--!"

"Speak to me in that tone again _and I'll have you fired!_ "

A moment of silence.

"... Yes sir."

Fowler nodded, stepping off the bus. The door closed, and the slow clicks surrounding the Prime told him he was locked in from all sides. Motormaster's field flared sadly around him.

"I am truly sorry, Optimus."

His frame was shaking, and there was no resisting the coolant running down his face plates anymore. Wobbling to his peds, Optimus staggered towards the closest couch, sinking down into the far corner. He drew his leg struts up to his chest plates and hid his face in his arms, letting the sobs he'd been holding back rack his frame relentlessly.

Megatron had heard every last insult thrown at him from the king of rock and roll. Agent Fowler had finally reached the breaking point to keep him chained down. The Autobot and Decepticon bands would face each other the next cycle to battle to the last melody for this world tour... And he would win by biased opinion.

_This is all my fault._


	16. Chapter 16

The rest of the Autobot band did not receive any inkling of the darkened situation of their lead singer until about four groons later, when they came back to their tour bus and they heard the click of the door unlocking for them.

That was odd. Motormaster didn't like to lock his door. Not on them, at least.

"Hey Motor, what's rollin'? You never lock your door."

Bulkhead questioned curiously. He received no worded answer, only the door swinging open and the sound of muffled cries coming from inside. Their sparks stopped for a beat.

"By Primus..."

Ratchet muttered before dashing onto the bus, followed by a panicking Arcee, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee. They found Optimus, nearly curled into a ball on the couch, helm ducked into his arms and quiet sobs shaking his frame. Energon had dripped and dried from his right wrist down the side of his leg and onto the couch.

The doc-bot immediately pointed at Bumblebee .

"Get me the first aid kit from the cabinet next to the pantry, now!!"

The young bot bolted towards the front. Then, Motormaster's door shut and clicked, locking them all in. Bulkhead whirled around on it.

"Hey, what gives Motor? Why are you locking us in??"

The tour bus's field was heavy with regret.

"I'm sorry, Bulkhead... I'm under orders."

Ratchet sighed at that, attention focusing fully on the Prime as he sat next to him.

"Optimus?"

He spoke gently, placing a tender servo on the other's arm strut. Slowly, the Prime's helm surfaced, old and new streaks of coolant glistening on his silver face plating. His optics betrayed physical pain and emotional agony. Ratchet's optics softened yet more facing the distraught bot.

"It's alright, my friend. We're here."

Bumblebee was back in a flash, holding out the first aid kit to the doc-bot. Ratchet turned to him, took it, and then turned back to the Prime.

"May I see your wrist?"

He asked before taking hold of the other's servo anyway, carefully turning it over and back again to see the damage to the wrist. _Fowler must've blown his gasket again_ , Ratchet thought to himself. He hummed as his optics scanned over the wrist.

"A few broken wires and cracks to the plating of the joint. Nothing I can't fix, my friend."

Ratchet let the servo fall back onto the knee strut it had been placed on, moving onto open the first aid kit and rummage through its contents.

"... This is all my fault, Ratchet."

Doc-bot halted in place, looking up to the owner of that stifled sob. The Prime's optics were not focused on him, instead gazing away at a point he didn't seem to truly be watching at all.

"Agent Fowler has lost all tolerance for me. Megatron _hates_ me. It's all my fault."

On the other couch, Arcee and Bulkhead exchanged confused expressions before turning to Ratchet. The doc-bot exchanged the same look with the others and faced Optimus once again.

"Hate you? Why would he hate you? What have you done wrong?"

This time, pulsing blue optics met Ratchet's.

"Alpha Trion, he... He condemned Megatron's work to me. He thinks of it in utmost disrespect, and shame. I should've argued against it. I should've said something. _Anything_. But I didn't even realize... Megatron had been there the whole time. _He heard everything!"_

Optimus' helm fell back onto his left arm strut with a muffled clang, and his shoulders shuddered with his ventilations. Ratchet finally found the cloth in the kit he'd been looking for, raising it to clean away the energon streaked over his leg and dried on his wrist.

"That's not your fault, Optimus, do not think of it that way... Megatron was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

_Wrong place. Wrong time._ Why did that phrase ring so familiar to the Prime? He couldn't remember. His processor had lost all logical circuits a few groons ago. The doc-bot's cloth ran a little too hard over the injury to his wrist, and his helm shot up with a gasp. Ratchet muttered an apology, going back over the spot more carefully.

"Our final performance tomorrow... It won't even be fair! Alpha Trion's opinion has become biased towards us and against the Decepticons... They will not stand a chance."

The cloth was set to the side, and Ratchet took out a small welder that was tucked in the corner of the kit. He took Optimus' wrist into his servo.

"This will probably hurt, my friend. Brace yourself."

A low blue flame emerged from the tip of the tool, and the doc-bot leaned it down to reweld the wiring. The Prime shook his helm at himself, his spark speaking more than his processor, not even paying attention to the other anymore.

"I should've never spoken to him at the Tavern. I should've never let him so close. None of this would've happened—"

Optimus was cut off by the keen ripping through his throat at the sudden throbbing pain that shot up his arm. He jerked back on instinct, tearing himself away from the doc-bot to stare at him with now guilt-stricken optics.

"Forgive me, Ratchet."

Optimus murmured, hold his servo back out. Ratchet did not take it back at first. He was left sitting there, staring at the other. _So close..._ He could've smacked himself. No wonder this was taking such a toll on the Prime. The Kaonian he'd befriended, had never been a friend at all. Whether Optimus knew this as well or not, he would've never been the first to admit it. All Ratchet had done was grumble and groan about a choice that had never been the Prime's to make. His sigh was long and heavy as he glanced over his shoulder at the other couch.

"Bulkhead. Would you mind assisting?"

The green bot rocked himself up and out of his seat, lumbering towards the elder pair. Following Ratchet's gestures, he lowered onto a knee and grasped the Prime's arm strut just below the wrist to hold him steady.

"Take it easy there, Optimus. Doc-bot will make it quick."

_This has to be set straight,_ Ratchet thought to himself as he turned the welder on again, going back to the wires that were partially welded. Optimus stiffened, a long whine rolling from his voice box.

_This cannot go on. I have to do something._

Bulkhead held him still, faceplates grimacing at the pain he knew their lead singer was in. Both physical and emotional. Ratchet's servos held steady and worked quick.

_I have to... Before we lose what little may be left of him._

***

Playing the guitar was something that had always calmed Megatron in ways other things could not.

The instrument itself was old, dented, and rusting at the edges; it had been handed down by an elder he once knew whom had taught him to play. But in his opinion, age had only made the sound better. His digits pressed and released each cord in accordance to the swipes his other servo made to all of them at once. They struck the different notes, which turned into a melody, which turned into a rhythm, which turned into the charming song he loved the most. It was about mercy, and a humble mech who might've prayed to Primus for it within the life he suffered through. The biggest counter to anything he'd ever performed. But no one in Kaon had ever paid attention to the lone guitarists who'd only played sweet melodies and sad songs.

Streetwise's front door opened, and in strode Knockout, eliciting the attention of all bots in the room except the band's lead singer. But, lucky for him, that's right where the cherry red racer headed.

"Megatron? There's this old bot waiting outside saying he needs to speak to you. Said his name is Ratchet."

His digits paused where they were in mid-strum. He didn't look up at the other, but his lip plates curled up into a snarl.

"Tell him to go away."

He picked up where he left off, strumming a bit harder than before. Soundwave's field brushed up against him.

"... He also said, 'if Megatron tells me to go away, I will walk in there and drag him out by his peds myself.'"

Megatron's digits paused again, and he looked up at his guitarist. Knockout's expression was nervous, glancing back towards the door as if waiting for the old bot to barge in at any moment.

_Why doesn't that surprise me?_

He cast a sideways glance at the keyboard specialist beside him, his face screen pointed directly at him and his field hovering over him as if it were its own shield. Only Soundwave knew about what had happened earlier. Finally, he sighed, lifting the guitar off his lap to stand it against the side of the couch and standing up. His gaze met Starscream, and it narrowed.

"If you touch my guitar, I will smash every last one of yours."

The seeker scoffed as he examined the back of his digits, wings twitching in annoyance.

"I have no interest in that rusted piece of scrap you call an instrument."

Growling at the insult to his guitar, but satisfied that it would remain where it was, Megatron ambled past Knockout and ducked out of the front door of their tour bus.

When he looked around, the first thing he noticed was how much darker the night seemed to be without the moons overhead. Clouds covered them this night cycle. The old Autobot stood off to the right, next to the wall of Streetwise with his arms crossed over his chest plates. But his facial expression didn't seem all that hostile. For Ratchet, it looked to be rather calm. Their optics met, and Ratchet's brow plate raised inquisitively.

"So, the mighty Megatron, lead singer of the Decepticons and hailing from Kaon itself; throws temper tantrums at criticism from elders... Here I'd thought you were raised a tougher mech."

He would've loved to have growled and snapped at that. Instead, a dark chuckle rose from his intake as he copied the stance of the bot across from him.

"It's not every cycle the elder criticizing you is the king of rock and roll himself."

Megatron leaned his back against the bus's outside wall, turning to stare out at the festival in the distance, dark and quiet for the night. Ratchet hummed.

"Hmm, only Alpha Trion? Not Optimus? Because from the way I see it, you seem to be placing as much blame on my friend as you are the king."

Sharp digits curled into fists, and this time he did growl. His spark curled at the memory file that resurfaced in his processor.

"He could've said something... He could've argued against it..."

"Do you honestly think you are the only one who holds that as a regret?"

Megatron's brow plates furrowed, and his helm tilted towards the old bot. Ratchet's shoulder leaned against the wall, and one ped was crossed over the other. Still, he didn't seem angry.

"I've known Optimus a lot longer than you have, Megatron. But you would be blind to have not noticed the blame he puts on himself for another's sake... I didn't even realize Optimus had originally been praised by Alpha Trion until our agent bragged about it a groon ago. He will not take praise, not at another's expense. He knows it is unfair and will assume it was his fault even if he had nothing to do with it."

_So I've noticed_. Megatron thought to himself. His spark recalled the groons after rescuing him from Agent Fowler, which he immediately shoved away.

"Well, as Alpha Trion's 'golden sparkling,' might I be safe in assuming this time it _was_ his fault?"

He sneered, a hint of jealousy giving way in his tone. Ratchet's optics suddenly narrowed, and an expression much darker than anger came over his face plates. He pushed himself off the wall, stepping forward to stand right in front of the Kaonian.

"Say what you might about him, Megatron. But you will not blame Optimus for something that was out of his control!"

Ratchet barked, catching the grey mech momentarily off guard.

"Do you think Optimus ever _wanted_ to be in this position? He never sang rock and roll because he wanted rise to fame, to be better than other bands, or to win a world tour! He sang because he loved rock and roll! He sang because it chased away his demons, and it gave him a rightful place in a world that had already punished him for sins he never committed! So, if you want to _blame_ someone for putting Optimus in this position that would bring _you_ down, why don't you blame Agent Fowler? You already know what he does to him!"

Megatron recycled his optics. His spark was caught on one part of that rant in particular.

_Chased away his demons? Punishment for sins never committed?_

His brow plates furrowed again, and his helm tilted at the old bot.

"What are you talking about, Autobot? What demons? What punishments?"

Ratchet jolted, this time taken off guard by the other. His intake opened to speak, but then it closed again. After a moment, his arms fell to his sides and he whirled around to walk a few steps away. His slow chuckle sounded like self-punishment to Megatron.

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

He let go of a long sigh, glancing back at Megatron after a moment of silence.

"This does not spread beyond us. Understood?"

Ratchet said shortly. Megatron pushed himself off the wall, inclining his helm in a single nod. The old bot watched him with bright and blazing blue optics, as if deciding something. Then, his helm faced forward, and he spoke.

"Orion was once his actual designation. Not just an alias."

Megatron's expression drained of the sneer.

"And he didn't always know what rock and roll was... Back when he was a singer for the religious temple of Iacon."

***

_"Let me hear your words,_   
_above all other voices._   
_Above all the distractions in this world!"_

The temple of Iacon was bright with the light of a new cycle, and the long rows that stood within it were filled with life. Bots of all kinds had gathered this cycle to celebrate and worship Primus. They swayed, sang, and threw their servos up in praise; giving their sparks to their one and only creator. At the front of all the life within the temple, stood the high priest at his podium, smiling and clapping along. And in the center, stood an average height, but beautiful Iaconian bot by the name of Orion Pax. His red and blue armor glowed in the light shining down from the glass windows, but his optics shined even brighter. One servo held the microphone to his lip plates, and the other was raised high as he sang.

_"For your words bring life,_   
_and your voice speaks promises._   
_Primus, your love offers more_   
_than anything else in this world!"_

Orion's bright smile elicited cheers from the bots in the front rows as he began to clap with the priest. Without missing a beat, the others followed his lead, even the members of the band behind him clapped along. When he stopped, the bots kept going, and he raised the microphone back to his lip plates.

_"Your words give us life that's never ending!_   
_Your words bring us love that never fails!_   
_Everything else will fade away,_   
_but what will remain are your words!"_

Closing his optics, Orion lifted his helm as he sang the last words at the higher vocal key. His favorite vocal key. His voice filled the room, echoing between the pillars and floating over the floors. When it came to an end, his audience erupted to an applause. Smile turning shy in the face of the praise, Orion bowed to them. The priest approached him, thanking him and giving his blessing before the young Iaconian left the front of the temple.

As he slipped past the rows of bots that had taken their seats and listened to the priest begin to speak, a flash of blue caught his optic from the doorway of the temple. His smile widened, and his optics shimmered yet brighter. Orion slipped through the doorway and looked to his left, finding a tall mech with high shoulders waiting patiently for his arrival. His plating shone blue of the day cycle's sky, accented by deep red and silver. His optics shone teal, and they shone happily at Orion.

"Primus smiles upon you, my love. That was an incredible performance."

Orion's spark jumped a beat, and he ran into the outstretched arms of his partner. He purred when he felt the other's face plating nuzzle against his audial antennae.

"Flattery will not excuse you from being late to the ceremony."

He whispered. His partner chuckled, pulling away from his antennae to dip down for a kiss. Spark pulsing in joy, Orion sighed and wrapped his arm struts around the other's neck, pulling the other down even closer. After a long moment, his partner pulled away, gazing down at him in nothing but rapture.

"I'm here now, aren't I?"

Orion hummed in agreement, standing up on the tips of his peds to give his partner another kiss.

"Yes, you are."

The tall mech's arm struts curled tighter around him, before one released.

"And soon, I'll be here."

The free servo was placed against Orion's chest plates, above his pulsing spark. It whirred at the close touch of his partner, and the Iaconian's expression turned to one of bliss.

"It's not soon enough..."

Orion purred again, leaning his helm against the other's chest. A strong and unwavering spark beat next to his audial, and it soothed his own. Protected it. Cherished it. It did not matter how much time had passed spent in each other's embrace. It would never be enough.

***

"His name was Ultra Magnus."

Ratchet said near absently, lost to the thoughts and memories resurfacing in his processor.

"He was the Chief Enforcer of the Iaconian Police... To this cycle, he's still the only bot I'll ever approve of. Even if his position caused him to be late for all of Orion's performances in the temple."

He laughed quietly as he stated the last part.

"They were set to be bonded... They'd picked the morning of the next new orbital cycle to bond. The high priest of the Temple had already declared he would bond them. Primus, I had gone with Orion to choose the cloak he would adorn in the ceremony. He found one in particular, a white one edged with silver glyphs of the ancient language of the Primes."

The old bot sighed, looking up at the moonless sky above them.

"He looked truly magnificent that cycle."

***

The red and blue Iaconian paced back and fourth in front of the large window, the nervousness and excitement rolling off of his magnetic field in waves. His plating, newly polished and waxed, reflected the light of the room.

"He'll be here, right Ratchet? He told me he would be here on time this cycle, he promised! Oh, I hope he's on time! Do you think anyone on the way here has seen him drive by?"

Ratchet chuckled as his friend babbled and paced, glancing out at the traffic beyond. Rising to his peds, he stopped Orion from pacing again as he placed a servo on the other's shoulder.

"Of course he will, Orion. He wouldn't be late to this for Cybertron itself."

The steady, unfazed words of his friend calmed Orion immensely. He vented a deep breath as Ratchet's servo ran up and down his spinal strut.

"You're nervous, Orion. That's perfectly normal. All bots are nervous just before their bonding ceremony. As soon as you're in the Temple, it's going to turn to panic and you're going to want to run the other way. But when you see Magnus, all of that fear is going to fade, because you're in this together. You'll come out of it a bonded pair."

Orion laughed, looking over at his friend with amusement.

"You speak as if you have your own experience."

He winked an optic. Ratchet snorted and waved a servo at him.

"By Primus, no! I just know a lot of bots. And I'd like to keep it that way."

The red and blue bot gasped in faked shock as he whirled on the white and orange bot.

"Ratchet! Language! You do not use our creator's name in vain!"

He recited, and they both laughed until their siding was sore. When they resurfaced into a more controlled state, Ratchet turned on a heel and walked towards the center of the room, where Orion's silver-edged white cloak hung on a rack, waiting for him.

"Well, there's no use in being late to your own bonding ceremony too, Orion! Come here!"

Orion giggled, following Ratchet and coming to stand in front of the rack. With tender servos, Ratchet unclicked the magnetic steel pendant that connected the top ends of the cloak and took it off the rack. Then, Orion ducked his helm as Ratchet draped it over his shoulders and connected the pendant over the center of his chest plating. The cloak fell to a mere half a servo length from his peds and graced him in a veil of white. Reaching over his shoulders, Ratchet grasped the hood of the cloak and pulled it up over his helm, tucking it just behind his antennae.

Orion looked up as Ratchet stepped back. His friend's optics seemed to sparkle as they looked him over.

"You look stunning, my friend... I don't know how Ultra Magnus will be able to keep his servos off of you throughout the entire ceremony!"

They laughed again. For a while, Orion would forgot about how nervous he was.

***

The old bot could still hear Orion's laughter in the memory files. It rang clean and clear, like the chime of a bell. It rang pure. It rang serene.

"What happened?"

Megatron's voice suddenly cut through the night cycle, dragging him from his thoughts. Ratchet could've cursed him for it, but he didn't. Instead, he finally turned to face the Kaonian behind him.

"Well, Ultra Magnus was late."

***

Two and a half groons had passed from the time the ceremony had been set to begin.

The friends who'd attended fidgeted and shifted in their rows. Some had turned to whisper to another, others were having conversations at normal volume with bots in the rows in front or behind them. None of the enforcers from the Police Station had yet to make it, which left three rows on the right side completely empty. That was the big topic of gossip among the guests, besides the blaring fact that one of the to-be-bonded partners had yet to arrive.

Ratchet had risen from his own seat in the first row to stand by Orion. The red and blue bot stood where he normally performed, center front of the Temple, except this time right next to the high priest. Orion had become very nervous, staring at the friends in the rows to the doors at the other end of the temple. Ratchet could tell the priest and him were taking turns to pacify him, from his own quipped and sarcastic jokes about their audience and laughing about this cycle later on to the priest's gentle and soothing reassurances.

_Ultra Magnus will be here. He promised. He'll be here—_

The doors of the Temple suddenly swung open with a loud bang, eliciting the attention of everyone in the room.

"Magnus...?"

Orion began hopefully. But his hope, as well as other's hope, turned to confusion. It was two enforcers under Magnus' command, striding up the isle with unreadable expressions. Orion knew them, not well, but he did know them. They'd been invited to the ceremony as well as all the others. The whispers around them grew louder, but they walked forward without pause. Straight towards the red and blue Iaconian.

"Orion Pax?"

The enforcer's voice was hard, drawn and emotionless. They both looked down at him, optics reflecting the question silently. The audience in the rows hushed as Orion stepped forward to the enforcers, drawing back his hood.

"Yes?"

"We're here in the regard of your partner, Commander Ultra Magnus."

Ratchet can see when something cold and foreboding hits his friend's spark, because he draws his servos up and wraps them around himself.

"Do you know where he is? I've been waiting for him... Has something happened?"

This time, their expressions change. The enforcers glance at each other, exchanging something within each glance, and then turn back to him. Their expressions have suddenly shifted to become solemn.

"... Commander Ultra Magnus has been in an alt form accident, about three miles from the Temple. Our investigation of the scene has led us to infer that he was on his way here two groons ago, when he was hit by an illegally speeding Stunticon. The crash was fatal to the both of them."

The silence in the room became frigid and dark. Then, it was filled with gasps, denying exclamations, and cries.

"Our deepest sympathies for your loss, Orion Pax."

"Magnus..."

Orion whispered, shock jolting his frame like a surge of electricity. His peds were stepping backward, moving away from the enforcers without his consent. His servos were shaking. His chest plating was beginning to shudder. Breathing suddenly became difficult as something crushed his vents, leaving him to gasp faster. The world around him was closing in, becoming darker, and crumbling down. The noise of the other bots became deafening static.

When the shock dissipated moments later, his spark shattered, and his leg struts collapsed beneath him.

"Magnus!!"

He cried in a strangled choke, clutching his chest plates in rising emotional agony. Behind him, he could feel the field of Ratchet, trying to wrap around him as his servos had. Instead, it was pushed back as his field whipped out and crackled in near insanity. Coolant fell to the ground beneath him as it flooded his optics, and he shut them against their onslaught. He screamed.

"MAGNUS!!"

***

Ratchet dragged a servo over his faceplates.

"We never found out who the Stunticon was... Both of their remains were unrecognizable from the impact. The only way they could tell it was him was the shredded blue cape that had been in his subspace for the ceremony."

Looking up from his servo, the old bot noticed how stiff and taken aback Megatron seemed to have become. He was silent, but his optics were aghast. Averting his own optics from the Kaonian's to keep his composure, Ratchet huffed and continued.

"It was about three groons after everyone else had left before I could get Orion back to his peds. When I did, I decided to take him where no bot would be judged for their pain. I took him to the nearest bar."

***

_"... And that was 'Dance with the Chaos Bringer' by the Junkions. I'm Banger, and this is Metal, Cybertron's one and only music station for rock and roll! You know, this evening cycle's the first of many for this upcoming orbital cycle..."_

The sound of a radio prickled sensitive audials. Glassy, blue optics gazed dimly at the table surface beneath them. Was it brown, or red? Silver, or black? He couldn't tell. His logic circuits had shorted out when...

"Here, Orion."

Ratchet returned from the bar counter to their table in the corner of the room. He held two mugs of what looked to be high grade, setting one down in front of him. He'd never had high grade before.

"It'll help, I promise."

_Promise... He'd promised._

A violent shudder ran over his frame, and through his broken spark. He grabbed the mug, desperately chugging down half of it in one gulp. The shocking sizzle of the high grade ran over his glossa and down his intake. But he focused on it, reveling in the disorientated state it left him in. If there's one thing he knew about high grade, it's that it helped a bot forget. He wanted nothing more than that.

Frowning at the shudder, Ratchet's servo came up to pull the white cloak he wore further over his shoulders. Physically, he wasn't cold. Mentally, he felt he had been burned and frozen all at once. So the gesture was appreciated.

Ratchet watched his friend guzzle down the rest of the high grade in his mug, sighing heavily.

"This is going to be a long road to recovery for you, isn't it?"

Orion doesn't respond, the focus of his optics falling back on the surface under them.

A passing waitress's optics glance over them momentarily, before she stops where she is to do a double take of the two bots. One cloaked in shining white with distraught faceplates and an empty mug. She walks over to them.

"Would you like a refill on this, sweetspark? You look like you could use one."

He would've been surprised by her if he'd had the energy, or the motivation. But Orion had neither. Slowly glancing up at the femme, the small Iaconian quietly nods. She smiles, picking up the mug, and then looking over at the orange and white bot sitting beside him.

"Left at the alter?"

She asks, voice sympathetic. Ratchet chuckles humorlessly.

"Not exactly. More of a 'wrong place at the wrong time' situation with his partner."

Her mouthplates open into a small 'o,' then she nods as if she understands. The waitress turns back to Orion.

"Well, don't you worry sweetspark. You're the image of youth and beauty! And there are plenty of bolts in the mainframe, if you know what I mean."

Optic flashing with a wink and lip plates giving a smirk, the waitress spins and walks off toward the bar with an empty mug in servo. It takes a klik for the statement to process, but when it does, Orion's optics blow wide and his jaw falls open. Then, his helm slams down on the table with an audible clang and his shoulders shake with new sobs. Ratchet glares after the femme, his level of annoyance heightened.

"Insensitive glitch... Don't listen to her Orion, she just doesn't know what you've been through."

The white cloak falls from around the red and blue Iaconian's shoulders as he draws his arms up around his helm, burying his helm to hide to pitiful moan wrenched from his intake.

"It's my fault, Ratchet. It's all my fault!"

Orion cries, the sound muffled.

"I made him promise to be there on time... He was rushing there because of _me_... And now he's gone."

Immediately, Ratchet shakes his helm. He grasps Orion's arm strut, watching him seriously.

"You will not do this to yourself, Orion. This is not your fault. Neither was it Ultra Magnus', and you know he wouldn't tolerate you blaming yourself either."

Orion lifts his helm to meet the gaze of his friend. Deep in his spark, beyond the surface of turmoil it was currently in, he knew Ratchet was right. But it was taking a bit longer to act upon it.

"Look, Orion. I know you're feeling beyond horrible at this point, but you can't let this overtake the rest of your life cycle. That's how you end up a bitter widow who files data away in the archives. I know, this must seem impossible, but once you sing at the Temple again you'll begin to feel better—"

"I'm not going back to the Temple."

Ratchet stops. His processor rewinds the memory file to make sure he'd heard that right. He did, according to precise audials and the anger that has suddenly settled in those bright blue optics.

"You don't mean that."

"I won't do it anymore, Ratchet... I can't."

He stares in shock. It takes a moment before his voice box will properly work again.

"Orion... You would give up your faith? You would give up _singing?_ "

Orion flinches at the word, not responding. His helm droops and his servos curl to not shake again. Ratchet's servo tightens the grip he still has on the other's arm strut.

"Listen to me... You can walk away from love, and never search for it again. I understand. You can leave Iacon, and never return. I'll understand that as well. You can even abandon the Temple, and not give Primus another fleeting prayer again. You're angry at him, I understand."

His other servo lifted off the table to be placed under Orion's chin, lifting the other's helm to see the stony determination in his optics.

"But I will _not_ see you give up singing. You love singing, Orion. When you give that up is when you'll truly be lost... I don't want to lose you too, my friend."

Closing his optics, Orion sighs and tilts his helm to lean his cheek plating against Ratchet's comforting servo. For a klik, they remain in this position. Until the mug that had disappeared not too long ago was replaced back in front of him silently. It was now full again. The red and blue Iaconian lifts himself, and he drinks the next half a mug less desperately than before. He places his elbow joint on the table surface and puts his forehelm in his servo.

"What would I even sing, Ratchet? Where would I sing?"

The orange and white bot shrugs, picking up his own mug to finally sip from it.

"You have options with your talent, we just have to look for them... For one, there's classical music. Orchestras are always looking for accompanying singers."

Orion shook his helm once. Ratchet huffed.

"Alright, no classical music... There's also jazz music. I've heard that's a fun profession to pursue."

This time, Orion raised a single brow plate. He huffed again.

"Ok, no jazz music either... Oh, Orion, what about the Opera? Haven't you had talent agents from the Opera Houses approach you multiple times in the past few stellar cycles?"

The red and blue Iaconian huffed back.

"There's a reason I turned them down, Ratchet. Opera singers are arrogant, their agents even more so. I don't want that."

Ratchet sighed, taking a longer swig of his high grade. They sat in silence as he tried to think of other genres of music Orion would want to pursue.

_"Sinking and suffocating,_   
_the walls are crumbling from within... me."_

A familiar melody hits his audials, and his optics suddenly blow wide. Orion jolts in his seat when he shoots up.

"Hey! Turn this up, will you?"

He shouts at the bartender. Said mech nods without blinking an optic, striding over to the radio controls at the edge of the bar and dialing up the volume.

_"Some thing's best left unspoken,_   
_and still this truth has broken me._   
_I can't believe it's true,_   
_no one to blame but you."_

Ratchet can't even help tapping his ped as he sits back down. His helm bobs in small movements to his favorite song, and he turns to look at Orion. Said bot is watching him in part confusion, part nervousness. He smirks.

"Forgive me, Orion. It's not everyday I get to hear music of my taste played on the present cycle's radio."

He tilts his helm at the orange and white bot.

"You never told me you had a specific taste in music, Ratchet."

This time, it's his turn to raise a brow plate at the other.

"Because when you were part of the Temple, you believed rock and roll was a vulgar type of music that always spoke of Primus in vain."

_Rock and roll?_

Yes, he had heard of this type of music before. Yes, he had thought of it as vulgar and dark, barely considerable as music when he sang for the Temple... But he didn't sing for them anymore.

_"Too many prayers unanswered,_   
_too many questions seen as sin._   
_Just quietly give in..._   
_Well, I never will again!"_

_Huh._

Something hot and heavy that had barbed his spark the moment he thought of Primus, began to sheathe at the flow of the lyrics.

"Ratchet, what is this song?"

The orange and white bot looks up from subtly moving with the rhythm.

"This, my friend, is Wishing Well by Defenders of the Rust: my favorite song performed by my favorite artist of the Golden Age."

_"A story only time will tell,_   
_I'm trapped inside a wishing well._   
_Living as a ghost in my own hell,_   
_I'm trapped inside a wishing well."_

Orion closed his optics again, letting the words and the melody fill his audials. It wasn't like the gospel songs he'd ever sung. This was dark, as he'd originally thought, but it was _reality_. He could _relate_ to it. It spoke to him in a way nothing else had done in his entire life cycle. Suddenly, the music ramped up with the effect of an electric guitar, and Ultra Magnus was fading from his processor. Whether it was the effects of the high grade finally taking hold, or the music's spell, he didn't know.

"It's... nice."

_"Just quietly give in..._   
_Well, I never will again!"_

His spark purred in dark satisfaction of the mech he loved fading away, a small smile graced his lip plates, and his ped unconsciously began to tap along.

"...Really nice."

***

"The rest is history, I suppose."

Megatron watched as the old bot stared at the festival grounds beyond. His voice was distant, as if separate from the frame that remained in the present.

"Rock and roll became a sort of coping mechanism for him as time passed. His love of it never dwindled. When he sang it, he felt at home. Thus, he changed. He changed his designation, we decided to strike out on our own, and created the band."

Ratchet turned back around. His optics were calm once again as they gazed at the Kaonian.

"Rock and roll freed him from the grief Ultra Magnus' death put on him. It freed him from the shackles Agent Fowler chained him in the moment he had the chance... But he never forgot the punishment, nor the blame he'd set on his own shoulders."

His arms crossed over his chest plates, and his hip joint cocked to one side and he leaned the weight of his frame on one ped.

"Now, you will be his next punishment. Yet more blame to take, except there won't be any music left to save Optimus from himself. The music within him is nearly gone, his voice is dwindling... He'll be lost."

Megatron wanted to respond. His spark begged him to respond. But barely an echo would surface from his voice box. It left the two of them in tense silence, until the old bot exhaled shortly.

"But of course, what does this matter to you, Megatron of Kaon? I'm sure the history of the 'golden sparkling' of Alpha Trion has bored you immensely."

This time, his spark sucker-punched him in its own casing, knocking him forward an uneasy step.

"Ratchet..."

But the old bot was having none of it.

"No, no I understand. The past does not matter. What matters is the performance and winning the world tour. What matters is the present, and the next cycle that will decide the fate of both our careers. What matters most to _you_ , is proving Alpha Trion wrong and bringing great honor to your band as well as your home, right?"

The Kaonian was left speechless.

"I understand that. And Optimus understands that as well. He was the one who pointed out to us how wrong this biased opinion of the judge would be, how unfair this competition had become because of it."

The old bot's optics suddenly went dark again.

"But it was _never_ his choice to make."

With that remark, Ratchet began to take his leave of the Decepticon's tour bus, turning on a heel and walking back the way he'd come. But before he was out of sight, he glanced over his shoulder at Megatron one more time.

"Why does it matter what Alpha Trion thinks of your work? It's not like the disrespect of others has ever seemed to stop you before."

Then, the old bot was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not technically a rock and roll song, but what Orion sang quoted "Your Words" by Third Day


	17. Chapter 17

*The next cycle*

Lines came together in parallel unity, growing closer and closer until they connected into a single jagged stripe over his shoulder armor. Arcee repeated the pattern over and over with a delicate touch. One strut, then the next, until the black painted over him looked as if it had always been there, separating his bright colors with the contrast of pitch black tearing into him.

Optimus looked up into the tall mirror he'd been seated in front of, dull optics taking in the appearance of a mech so much stronger, alluring, and dangerous than he felt. A few millennia ago, he might've looked upon this mech in awe. A few cycles ago, he might've sneaked away to see the reaction of the lead singer of the Decepticons to this mech... What ifs, what might's, and what could have been. They were the worst questions to ask, because the answers were endless, and they were all followed with pain.

The door of the dressing room opened, and Ratchet stepped in. Bumblebee paused in tuning his black and yellow electric guitar. Bulkhead looked up from where he was spinning the drumsticks in his servos. Even Arcee stopped in the final touches of their lead singer's paint job to glance at him. Everyone, except Optimus, met his gaze. His gaze in turn was only pointed towards one of them.

Expression solemn, he padded towards the mech in the mirror, standing on the opposite side of where Arcee currently occupied.

"Optimus."

He stated gently, making the taller bot's optics finally flick down from the mirror as his helm tipped slightly towards him. Ratchet stepped closer, close enough to reach out with a servo and cup the other's cheek plating. He didn't have to apply much pressure to get Optimus' helm to turn all to way to look at him.

"No matter what happens this cycle, and no matter who wins this performance; there is something I want you to remember... You are not alone in where you stand."

The Prime's optics focused on him, and for that Ratchet gave him a small smile.

"We started this band together, as a team. As a _family_. We all stand with you, my friend, and we will follow you wherever you may go."

For a moment, Optimus did not react. He simply watched the other in the melancholy that had overtaken him. Then, his optics shut, and he tilted his helm to lean against Ratchet's comforting servo. The doc-bot's field came around him to offer warmth against the cold in his spark. He accepted it gratefully.

"He's right, Optimus."

Both elders turned to Arcee, who smiled kindly from where she now stood a few paces back from them.

"We've come a long way from where we started, and performing at Music Fest has been incredible... But even the world tour means nothing to me if I lose the Prime I've come to love as my own brother."

Optimus could not help but return the smile. It was sad, but it was genuine and a spark-felt love flickered in his optics. Bumblebee and Bulkhead looked at each other before rising from their own seats, joining Arcee to stand around their Prime. They both nodded in agreement.

"We're with you, Optimus."

Bulkhead rumbled, and when the Prime's optics fell on Bumblebee, the young bot's doorwings fluttered as he shared the collective grin.

"You've been there all this time; for all of us. It's time we're there for you."

A single drop of coolant ran down his face plate before he could stop it, and his vents stuttered an exhale of air. But for once it wasn't from grief, or pain, or even guilt. It was from joy. With that joy and the bots around him he had the privilege to call family, he suddenly felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: the freedom of a choice. The world was cruel and would take as much as it wanted without giving back. He had the scars to prove it. But there was one thing that helped: music. Once long ago, he'd chosen his path in music. Music had brought them together. And they would not so easily be torn apart. No matter what happened, it was ok. He had a choice, and he wouldn't be alone.

Suddenly, the door slammed open. They all were broken from the moment of peace to see Agent Fowler step in, an expectant and critical expression on his faceplates.

"You're on in three kliks. Let's go."

The Autobot band exchanged glances, until Optimus ran a servo over his faceplate to wipe away the remnants of coolant. He then stood, inhaling and exhaling slowly, before steeling himself to walk towards his agent. Ratchet followed like a shadow, and the others fell behind in step. This was it.

"Now listen here, Prime."

Fowler began, walking one step ahead but keeping an optic on the lead singer at all times.

"There will be none of this dreary, depressed attitude you've taken on since last cycle on stage. You'll walk out on stage looking alive and excited for this performance, and you will sing the songs I've picked in the order I put them in. This is the biggest opportunity of your career, and you will not waste it by..."

Agent Fowler's voice faded, as the noise did around him. Every step he took seemed to echo as if he were in a tunnel. The lights around him glared, and as they entered the backstage area they flashed and spun wildly in a variety of colors. Mecha and femmes around them ran and buzzed like impulses of electric in a circuit board, all to their own places at their own paces. His spark beat slowly, the sound of it's pulse vibrating from his audials down to his peds. It did not pound excitedly, not like it would at a normal performance. He inhaled and exhaled another long vent, trying to push away the darkness surrounding his spark that threatened to drag him under. It was filled with regret, something he never imagined would be felt before the biggest performance of his life cycle. And it took all the joy he'd ever felt in rock and roll, locking it away with a hidden key. It wasn't fair. It wasn't just. _It wasn't right._

"... Optimus! Are you listening to me?!"

He jolted.

"Well, if it isn't the Autobots."

Everyone jolted.

Agent Silas was sauntering towards them, the Decepticon band in tow.

" _They're_ the ones we're performing against?!"

Starscream shouted at the front of the Decepticons, wings flattened against his back as he glared at the Autobots venomously. Knockout and Breakdown stared at them in surprise, but not comment nor share his anger. None of the Autobots returned the glare either.

Agent Fowler growled, holding up a servo to the Autobots and glancing at Optimus from the corner of his optic.

"You will not look at your opponents, nor speak to them. Or else."

He snarled near silently. Panic struck Optimus too quickly to think about disobeying, and his helm immediately bowed tensely. His optics met the ground, so he only felt Fowler's glare before he stepped forward to the other agent.

"And if it isn't the Cons... You look disappointed Silas, were you expecting a lowly band your misfits could actually out-perform?"

Fowler sneered, crossing his arms over his chest plates. Silas stared him down.

"I am disappointed. I suppose I was expecting... shall we say more? I wouldn't be surprised if this time, your entire band collapses on the stage. It's they who won't stand a chance."

Optimus' entire frame was frozen in tension. He listened intently, hoping and terrified of hearing the actions or words of one specific mech he knew was among the Decepticon band. For now, the Decepticons were silent, listening to their agent banter as well. Ratchet crept up behind him, edging close enough to place a servo on his back strut and brush his field against the other's rigid one.

Agent Fowler snickered, and he could hear the smirk in his tone.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so confident Silas. You never know who might be the 'favorite' of our surprise judge."

He flinched at his agent's tease. The action was so abrupt, and so severe that it was definitely visible to everyone who stood close by. Ratchet's servo stroked up and down once. Silas chuckled darkly, and he had a feeling it was at his flinch.

"We never had to be the 'favorite' to rise to fame in Kaon. Unlike _some_ bands, the Decepticons are here with a purpose. A purpose they intend to meet with no one standing in their way."

_Our ultimate goal in what we do is to put Kaon on the maps, to give it the importance it once had..._

Optimus could take it no longer, and slowly lifted his helm to glance up at the Decepticons. Starscream watched him and his band with obvious distaste and impatience. Knockout and Breakdown looked bored with the situation. Soundwave stood behind the other three, his faceplate seeming to stare at a point behind him. He knew Bumblebee was staring back. Finally, his optics came to rest guiltily on the tallest Kaonian of them all, and his spark halted.

Red optics stared right back at him, but no hate lay within them. There was no anger, no outrage, no fury that bit at him from their depths. There was no snarl or sneer on his grey faceplates. His fists were not curled and poised to strike. His frame was not tense, and it portrayed no outward fit of jealousy towards him.

Instead, they met him with almost the same expression he'd seen first at the Tavern: taken aback and silent. But this cycle, they met him with something else... Sympathy. A deep, in held, and wrenching solace that was directed to him, and him alone. It flipped his whole world upside down and over again, brought it crumbling down, and rebuilt in a few nanoseconds. Suddenly, his hurting spark was pounding so hard that he felt it might shatter again.

_You're not... mad at me?_

The agent standing in front of him cocked a hip and chuckled, unknowing of his actions.

"Well, purpose or not, we've got an audience waiting for us. I'll see you from the stage, Silas."

Agent Fowler turned around, merely glancing at his lead singer quickly before grabbing his previously injured wrist and yanking.

"Come on Prime! You're on!"

His dumbfounded stare was torn from Megatron as he was forced to turn after his agent and follow.

_No... No this isn't right!_

He whipped his helm back to see the Kaonian again, a rare prayer to Primus begging that this would not end this way. Megatron's optics widened a fraction and his frame leaned forward in a step towards him. His servo half reached out to him. His spark jumped.

_No! This isn't right! Please!_

Turning back to Fowler, he tried to pull back, but the agent's iron grip would not budge. Behind him, his band stared at them in fear and denial, and Ratchet's optics were building with fury. He met those optics for one moment, and he was shot back into the sound of a memory file...

_Just quietly give in..._   
_Well, I never will again!_

The Prime's optics blew wide, before they narrowed in rage. Planting his peds underneath himself, Optimus coiled the trapped servo into a fist, and ripped his wrist out of Agent Fowler's grasp.

"NO!"

He shouted. The force of his movement was enough to cause Agent Fowler to stumble around backwards, staring at him in pure shock.

"I REFUSE!"

All bots stared at Optimus Prime and Agent Fowler in astonishment, unable to react. Optimus' chest plates rose and fell with his heavy ventilations, and the rage that coursed through his field into his optics. After a long moment, Fowler's optics turned into that familiar deadly glare.

"This is not funny, Prime. You have a world tour to win and an audience waiting for your performance. Let's go."

His tone was cold, unforgiving, and far worse than angry. But it only edged Optimus on, standing firmly where he was as his rage was toned down to a calm response.

"No, I do not."

His peds shifted into a slow backpedal from Agent Fowler, halting a few steps further away as his helm turned towards the Kaonians across from him.

"I will not fight the Decepticons, nor Megatron."

Said mech looked from him to the Autobot band's agent twice in rapid succession, optics overtaken with shock and entire expression dumbfounded. Optimus' rage began to fade as he gave the grey mech a small, sad smile.

"Put Kaon on the maps, Tron. Take the world tour so that your home may thrive again."

_What if the silent majority wasn't silent anymore?_

Megatron's voice rang handsomely in his audials, and he cherished it.

"If more of us valued songs of revolution above songs of stories and happy endings; Cybertron might be a better place for those who've been wronged."

With those words, Optimus turned back to his stunned agent, meeting him with an even stare. And with a tone of finality, he spoke once more.

"I'm done singing for you, Agent Fowler."

A cold, heavy weight settled on his shoulders like iron chains lifted, and it was the best feeling of liberation he'd ever experienced. With his helm held high, Optimus spun and began to walk away from all of them, not once looking back.

"PRIME!!"

Agent Fowler yelled in part anger, part panic. His lead singer did not even pause. The short mech looked around desperately until his optics fell on the Autobots.

"Ratchet! Do not let him leave! Go talk some sense into him!"

The doc-bot stared at him hard before he laughed incredulously.

_"Sense?"_

He retorted, turning to back away from the agent with his arms held out at his sides.

"This is the most sensible Optimus has been since he lost everything to you."

Ratchet smiled in dark satisfaction and followed the Prime's path. Agent Fowler whipped back to stare desperately at the other Autobots, but they were having none of it. Arcee and Bulkhead glared at the agent before following the doc-bot, the green bot throwing his drumsticks to the floor in front of him before leaving. Bumblebee was the last to remain there, but he wasn't looking at the agent. He was gazing at the Decepticons. And what startled the Decepticon band the most was the cheerful smile on his faceplates as he gave them a thumbs up.

"Good luck out there guys... Good luck Soundwave."

Indigo optics lit behind the face screen and shined through. The young black and yellow bot gave him a small wave as he too turned around, clutching his electric guitar, and walking away with the Autobots.

"PRIMUS FRAGGIT—SON OF A GLITCH—"

The Autobot agent fritz-ed up in the middle of his shouted curses, having a panic attack and throwing a temper tantrum all at once. Silas only crossed his arms over his chest plates and watched the other agent with a growing smirk. Meanwhile, the Decepticons stared after where the rival band had disappeared.

"... Does this mean we just won the world tour?"

Breakdown said slowly, as if testing out the words. The bonded pair as well as Starscream would've begun to jump and down in exhilaration at the declaration, if the event that just occurred would've let them. Instead, it left them to stare at each other, and then at their keyboard specialist and lead singer.

"Megatron?"

The Kaonian did not respond. Like his brother, his gaze was fixed on the path the Autobots had taken. His spark pounded in its casing, but his vocalizer was silent.

***

"So you're done with the world tour competition, huh?"

The merchant watched the Autobot lead singer from where he sat leaned back in his chair in the corner, brow plate raised. Optimus nodded from his own seat across from him.

"Well, that seems a shame, you really had the talent for it."

He responded with an easy-going tone. Then he shrugged, optics lowering back down to the datapad in his lap.

"But it's your life cycle, and your decision what you do with it. I'm sure right now, you're gladder to be away from that son of a glitch who called himself your agent."

Optics fluttering closed, the words themselves reminded Optimus that he was liberated of Agent Fowler for good, and he sighed in long-wanted relief.

"Oh, it's not just Optimus. We all are."

Ratchet and the other Autobots were suddenly at the entrance of the tent. Optimus recycled his optics at them in surprise. The doc-bot only grinned and walked into the tent, crossing his arms over his chest plates and cocking a hip joint to the side.

"You did it, my friend. We're free."

The soft-spoken words were enough to help the Prime share the grin, and it spread to the rest of them as they ambled in and stood around him.

"So, what do we do now? Go back to Iacon and book our next performance at the Crystal Gardens?"

Bulkhead inquired politely. Ratchet chuckled and glanced over at the drummer.

"Perhaps. We never needed an agent to do that. It would also be a great assistance in paying Motormaster back for a trip home. As for our recording studio, well, we might be able to work out a deal with the producers. If not, we'll simply look for another studio who'd be willing. What do you think, Optimus?"

The Autobot band turned towards their lead singer, patiently waiting on his opinion in the matter. He gazed at them all, seeing the hope in their optics, and it made his spark quench in guilt. He sighed, optics drifting down to his peds.

"I think I would like a break from performing, Ratchet. The music festival has brought me to re-evaluate the way I perceive myself, and I believe it would be best if I took the time to understand what that will mean for me."

The band recycled their optics, exchanging expressions, but they did not seem mad. Ratchet opened his intake to respond before he was suddenly cut off.

"I hope this does not mean you'll quit singing for good, Optimus. I am rather fond of your voice."

Optics blowing even wider than before, the Prime followed the startled glances of his band to see a familiar mech standing at the entrance.

_It couldn't... Could it be?_

Megatron's grin was genuinely tender, and there was warmth in the light of his red optics. He pushed himself off of the side post of the tent he'd leaned his shoulder on and wandered a straight path to the red and blue mech. Optimus' lip plates opened and closed a few times as he tried to formulate a proper response to the grey mech that was situating himself to sit beside him.

"Megatron, I... I..."

The Kaonian's elbow joints came to rest on his knees and his servos hung between his thigh struts. Then, he shook his helm at the Prime's stutter, so he let his intake close.

"If you are going to apologize, Optimus, then do not. You have nothing to apologize for. None of this was your fault."

Ratchet's lip plate flickered up at the Kaonian's response, and the Prime could only stare at him with an unbelieving spark. Megatron reached for Optimus' servos, holding them to show his sincerity.

"... I was once told that the future of the Decepticons rested in our performance at this Festival. We would win the world tour and gain the public's optic to achieve our original purpose. There was no other option."

He paused, his digits curling further over the others, but never daring to scratch.

"What you did this cycle, showed me that there _is_ another option. We all have a choice, even when we least expect it. It may not be the one we thought we would follow... But in the end, it may just become the best decision we've ever made."

Megatron's optics met the other's bright blue ones, and it steeled his decision.

"Our life cycles are our own. They can be decided by no one but ourselves... Such is why I am pulling out of the running for the world tour."

All bots around them shifted and recycled their optics in surprise, glancing at each other and exchanging expressions. Optimus stared at him before stuttering again.

"But... But Megatron, what about Kaon? Your goals, your purpose?"

The grey mech's smile only widened, and he squeezed the servos wrapped in his own.

"Once long ago, that was enough. But now more than ever, I know it is not. There will always be another chance to fight for the honor of Kaon. In the end, Optimus, I've realized it will not matter what others have thought of my work. Even Alpha Trion. It will not matter where I've gone or what I've done with this career. What _will_ matter, is the closest bots I'll have the privilege to share music with. The memories and bonds it'll make that may just last a lifetime... So I would rather be here now, in this moment we still have to share, than touring the world with the regret of leaving you behind."

The Autobots were awestruck, and the merchant's optics were brightly lit. Optimus was rendered speechless, gazing in such strong joyful emotions at the other that his voice box could only burst out a sound that could've been a laugh or a sob. His servo pulled away to cover his intake and his optics fell in embarrassment. But then clawed digits followed to wrap around the servo, gently pulling it down and making him look up. Megatron watched him in nothing but pure rapture.

"It's true. He refuses to get on stage. We already tried."

This time, it was the Decepticon band whom met everyone's stare outside the tent. Megatron sighed shortly at their appearance, rolling his optics to then glare at them with exasperation.

"Haven't you scrapheaps ever heard of privacy?"

Soundwave's shoulders shook lightly, and Knockout snorted before waving a servo at the lead singer.

"As if Breakdown and I would ever let you off the hook for all the times you walked in on us. Besides, you should've seen the look on Silas' faceplates when we left. It was priceless!"

His frown turned to a smirk, and the Prime chuckled quietly beside him. Now they were definitely two of a kind; both without an agent, and very satisfied to say so.

"Well, not that this hasn't been quite an exciting cycle to meet two well-known rock bands in one groon, but I do believe we now have a pressing dilemma on our servos my friends."

The merchant perked up, standing from his chair in the corner for the first time Optimus and Megatron had seen throughout the week. He looked out towards the stage.

"Without performers for the last rock concert of the Festival, they're about to have a lot of angry bots demanding an explanation and refunds. The founders of the festival are going to be angry in turn and are going to look for someone to blame."

Recycling their optics, the Autobot and Decepticon bands shifted to glance at each other nervously. That wasn't something they'd previously thought of when this event occurred. Cheers and screams from the crowd at the stage could be heard in the distance. Bulkhead muttered a curse.

"Wheeljack's in the crowd, he was going to watch us... And this was his last cycle before he had to go back on active duty with the wreckers in Iacon."

The Prime's spark quenched with guilt again. He'd forgotten about his bands' partners. Looking at his drummer with a sudden hint of indecision in whether this was right, he turned back to Megatron for another opinion. But the Kaonian only shared his struggle. Then, the merchant walked over to the both of them, setting a servo on the nearest corner of each chair. His optics were lit, and he smiled at the two of them.

"I know you both have decided against the world tour. But perhaps, you could find it within yourselves to give Praxus just one more performance?"

Recalling what that would mean, the Prime lowered his optics away from the merchant's gaze silently. A low growl rose from deep within Megatron's intake. His servos tightened over Optimus' own before he stared defiantly at the merchant he called his friend.

"We will _not_ compete against each other."

Optimus did not see when the merchant's smile turned to a smirk, but he did feel the cool servo that was placed on his shoulder.

"Who ever said you had to compete?"

_What?_

The question went through both of their processors at the same time, because their confused stare at the mech was punctually simultaneous. _To not compete? What would we_ _do then?_ The merchant's expression did not change besides the way his smirk grew as he watched them both think. Autobots and Decepticons alike were completely bewildered, except for Starscream whom grew angrier by the nanosecond waiting for an answer.

But then, it began to click. Thoughts came together, the pieces came to fit, and the merchant's idea lit in their processors like a beacon. He watched as it hit the Iaconian and the Kaonian's sparks at the same time, jolting them to whirl back and stare at each other with wide optics. Starscream finally snapped.

"Well, what are we doing?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this is late and I apologize, but the rock song at the end of Chapter 16 in the bar was "Wishing Well" by Ben Moody, which is also the song that is quoted in this chapter. Sorry!


	18. Chapter 18

Exuberance passed through each and every bot like a disease. It spread through their shouting voice boxes, vibrated from their pounding peds, flew into the air by their raised servos, and waited eagerly within their optics. This was it. This was the last cycle of the festival, and the final showdown; the competition between the best of the best. This would decide who was the best modern rock band on Cybertron, and they would celebrate by touring every region of the world. This was the cycle that either the Autobots or the Decepticons would become one of the great bands of history. And their audience was _more_ than ready for a smackdown.

So they waited patiently. Even when an entire groon passed from the set time one of the bands was supposed to emerge onto the stage.

Agents Fowler and Silas remained backstage, muttering to themselves as they paced back and forth. On occasion they exchanged curses that turned into a full blown argument, but they never lasted long. Both were stuck without a band and absolutely no idea what to do. How in the name of Primus would they explain this to the judge? The audience? The founders of the festival? None of them would be happy, and they would probably be less happy with the explanation of "they didn't want to fight each other."

So all in all? They were screwed.

That is, until Megatron and the Decepticons returned, instruments in servo. Both agent bots whipped around at the sound of enormous peds and stared in stupefied shock. They weren't even given a glance in return. The tall, grey Kaonian strode right past them, spiked shoulders set squarely and optics dead ahead with determination. He was followed by the others of his band on a straight path around the corner of the wall to the stage. Fowler and Silas could only grapple over each other trying to get to the edge and watch them walk out to face their audience.

**"Femmes and Gentlemecha, don't be silent, let them hear you! From the fires of Kaon, HERE COME THE DECEPTICONS!"**

With only the announcement as a warning, the thousands of bots surrounding the stage erupted into half-hazard applause. From the stage, it could've blown out Megatron's audials had he not turned them down to the minimum frequency. His band had never been in front of a crowd so big, and the thought made him unusually nervous. But he would not falter now; not when this may just be the last time he would ever be seen on a stage again. Rolling his shoulders in their joints to work them free of building tension, Megatron walked up to the mic in the center while the others took their respective places on stage. None of them made a move to play their instruments. Carefully, he removed the mic from the stand and turned to clear his voice box before beginning.

"Greetings, Praxus."

He rumbled. His audience screamed loudly.

"How is everyone this cycle?"

The response was a roar that boomed up through his peds. One end of his lip plates curled up at it.

"... I know this isn't how we usually begin our performances. Normally by this time, we would be so loud, the neighboring region could've heard us."

Another roar.

"But this cycle's not like the others. This one's much more than a concert, and I wanted to take this time to tell you something important. I hope you don't mind."

Whoops and hollers followed as he walked out from behind the mic stand, putting himself on the edge of the stage as he always did. Exhaling once again, Megatron looked up at the audience.

"... I've heard it said that the loneliest of mecha are the kindest, the saddest of mecha smile the brightest, and the most damaged of bots are the wisest. I will be the first to admit I thought nothing of this saying the first time it was told, and you probably have not either... I believe now that was a great mistake."

Noises from the crowd began to hush when the meaning of what he said began to settle.

"About a cycle before the music festival began, I met someone at the local tavern. I didn't think he was anyone special, just another mech lonely like myself at the bar. Except, when I looked at him a second time, I noticed a few details that should not have been ignored. One: my spark had started pounding. Two: this mech had to be the most stunning bot I'd ever seen."

The audience collectively laughed, and a cat-calling whistle echoed near the stage. Slowly, he began to wander down one side as he spoke.

"He wasn't a party type of bot, content to keep to himself. Though he was enamored with Golden Age rock and roll, and from there we got along well. We spent all the time together we could at this festival, and I suppose you could say we came to know each other rather well... I came to care very deeply for this mech, and if I were any younger a bot I would've never thought it a spark resonance. But it is."

'Awh's and coos met his audials, and his lip plates curved up again. Until he thought about what would be said next, and he halted in his steps, a guilty frown overtaking his intake.

"Last cycle, my trust and faith in this mech was put to the test. And when it came to the moment that test became unbearable, I turned away from him and did not look back... In my assumption that this mech who'd betrayed me was never who I thought he was, I did not realize how I might've been correct... in a way I'd never imagined."

Ratchet's story of the history of Orion replayed in his processor. His optics fell to the stage beneath his peds as he searched for the words to come.

"The most beautiful of bots in this world, both in spark and frame, are the ones who've suffered the most. We overlook them every cycle, pass them by on the streets like they were any other... Or in my case, we fall helm over peds for them. But if we look close enough, we can tell them apart. They're in pain, they're scared, and they're alone.... The mech I'd befriended has suffered a great deal, and I never realized such until it was nearly too late."

He looked up at the crowd, all bots were hushed into silence.

"But his courage, his strength, and his willingness to sacrifice everything for others are without bounds. He's shown me how rock and roll can heal great wounds, and give a bot a purpose to last the rest of their lifetime... He's given me back my own purpose, and I feel I have given him almost nothing in return... I will never be able to thank him enough."

The last part, he muttered more to himself, but he knew everyone heard it. Their response was a low cheer that radiated waves of awe towards him. It brought a smile back to his faceplates.

"I would like you all to meet him, if that's alright with you. I should warn you, it won't be at all whom you might expect."

It was an instantaneous cheer of approval that followed. No, it did not matter to them who it might be, and this may have been starkly different from the way the Decepticons had ever begun their performances before. But this change of spark and sudden compassion did not seem to be unwelcome by the fans. Backstage, Agents Fowler and Silas exchanged a confused glance. Then, Megatron gestured a servo towards the stage entrance where they were hiding.

"Praxus, would you please help me welcome a very dear friend of mine and his band to the stage."

All of a sudden, the Autobots were walking past the agents. Not sparing them a glance either, none of the bots carrying their own instruments noticed the way Fowler's jaw dropped and Silas stared with wide optics.

Optimus Prime walked out onstage, and thousands of bots collectively gasped before erupting into the loudest cheer yet. He ducked his helm, if not a bit shyly at the applause, and gave a small smile to the crowd. Behind the two lead singers, the other members of the Autobot band went to their respective places. Arcee stood next to Knockout on the far right, connecting their electric guitars to speakers as they nodded to each other. Bulkhead and Breakdown bumped fists, and with a wave towards backstage, a crew ran onto expand the original drum set for the two drummers. Ratchet took a mic standing next to Starscream, glaring with equal ferocity at the seeker who raised his wings aggressively, but neither made a move. Bumblebee finally made his way to the keyboard specialist in the far left corner, standing next to the Kaonian and giving him a small wave as he plugged in his guitar. In response, Soundwave's digital smiling face appeared and his slender servo waved back.

Optimus and Megatron smiled at that, then turned to the crowd as their roar finally began to die down.

"We know you all were expecting a battle to the last song... But we have something else in mind."

Megatron relented into the mic as the Prime was handed another microphone from a member of the backstage crew.

"We wrote a couple new songs together this past week, and we wanted to share them with you... This first one's called Fire and Fury."

Loud cheering boomed over the lead singers as they glanced at each other. _Are you ready?_ Megatron's red optics asked in a quiet, but inquisitive glance. In response, the Prime's lip plates curved up and he nodded once. Then, they were backpedaling from each other, taking opposite sides of the stage. As the Prime came to a stand still by the doc-bot and the grey mech halted in front of their guitarists, Soundwave began the melody on his keyboard. Eight beats of the same key passed by to start the rhythm. And on the ninth, both Autobot and Decepticon lead singers raised the microphones to their intakes.

_"Every brick and every stone of the world we made,_   
_will come undone, if I..."_

_"If I can feel you here with me... Whoa oh"_

The audience fell silent in mere moments as one voice was suddenly echoed by another. With a practiced ease, they complemented each other in differing keys until Optimus ended with a drawn out low key. In the background, the soft pang of a drum and the strum of a guitar began.

_"In my sleep, I call your name.  
_ _But when I wake I need to touch your face, cause I..."_

_"I need to feel you here with me... Whoa oh"_

Megatron clasped the microphone tighter as he rose to a sudden higher note, but his optics never left the Prime when his verse ended and the other's began.

_"You can stop the aching. Cause you're the one I need!"_

_"You can stop the aching. Cause you're the one I need!"_

Ratchet joined in, accompanying the Prime one note lower. Optimus glanced over at him for a split nanosecond, sharing a small smile with his old friend, before calling out the last note and turning back to the Decepticon.

_"I will burn, I will burn for you..."_

_"I will burn, I will burn for you..."_

As the drummers struck their instruments, Megatron and Optimus united in voice to form the chorus. For both of them, it brought back the memory file of a similar moment not too many cycles ago, and a pang of nostalgic joy to their sparks.

_"With fire and fury,"_

_"Fire and fury."_

_"Fire and fury."_

Optimus joined him on the repeat of the words. Like once before, they glided up and down three vocal notes, bringing them together in a harmony that no one had ever heard of before. _A duet._ Never in the history of Cybertron, even the Golden ages, had the rock and roll genre of music ever had a duet of two bands. It stunned their audience.

_"My spark hurts, my spark hurts for you..."_

_"My spark hurts, my spark hurts for you..."_

As the doubled verse ended, Megatron began it, and ended it by drawing out the last note as the Prime already had.

_"Your love burns within me...."_

_"With fire and fury."_

_"With fire and fury. Whoa oh"_

Suddenly, they ceased, and Soundwave's piano was left to continue the repeating rhythm and melody to carry onto the next verse.

_"If I freeze, you are the flame._  
_You melt my spark, I'm washed in your rain, I know..."_

_"You'll always have the best of me. Whoa oh"_

As Megatron began, both Autobot and Decepticon lead singers started to move towards each other from opposite sides of the stage. Their steps were slow but synchronized, like dancers trying to reach each other from different sides of the world. But the path was straight, and they were guided by the fire blazing in each other's optics.

_"Destiny's got a hold on me!_   
_Guess I never knew love like love knows me, cause I..,"_

_"Destiny's got a hold on me!_   
_Guess I never knew love like love knows me, cause I... I need to feel you here with me!"_

When they sang the verse together, Megatron noticed how the Prime's voice was suddenly pushed with emotional intensity. His servo came up to rest over his spark chamber, and the Kaonian's own spark pulsed. The closing distance between them was becoming too far away to bear as Optimus' voice rose higher in the last verse.

_"I will burn, I will burn for you..."_

_"I will burn, I will burn for you..."_

_"With fire and fury,"_

_"Fire and fury."_

_"Fire and fury."_

Backstage, the agent bots were frozen stiff with shock. Beyond the stage, the audience waved their arms high in the air from side to side in a slow wave, following the rhythm and the beautiful melody of the love song. And onstage, Knockout and Arcee were sharing a wonderstruck smile at the song as their digits hovered over their instruments.

_"My spark hurts, my spark hurts for you..."_

_"My spark hurts, my spark hurts for you..."_

_"Your love burns within me...."_

_"With fire and fury."_

_"With fire and fury. Whoa oh"_

The chorus ended, and the guitars ramped up. Soundwave's keyboard played right alongside them, bringing a gentle beauty to wicked instruments. Megatron and Optimus had finally reached other, and stood face to face with peds shoulder width apart and microphones a mere servo length away from touching.

_"Let it all fall down to dust!_   
_Can't break the two of us!_   
_We are safe in the strength of love!"_

_"Let it all fall down to dust!_   
_Can't break the two of us!_   
_We are safe in the strength of love!"_

Megatron's free clawed servo then reached out, brushing against smooth, warm metal as he stroked the Prime's faceplates reverently. Optimus subtly leaned into his touch as the Kaonian sang the next verse, and in the other's voice he heard reassurance he'd thought he had once lost forever... Now, it had returned, and he sang jubilantly with him.

_"You can stop the aching..."_

_"Cause you're the one I need!"_

_"Cause you're the one I need!"_

The drums slammed as the guitars all paused, and the lead singers pulled away only to cry out their last verse together.

_"I will burn, I will burn for you..."_

_"I will burn, I will burn for you..."_

_"With fire and fury,"_

_"Fire and fury."_

_"Fire and fury."_

Red, orange, and yellow streaks of light began to flash on the stage, putting all mechs on it in their own spotlight. They danced and flickered around the lead singers who sang only to each other, as if lighting them on fire.

_"My spark hurts, my spark hurts for you..."_

_"My spark hurts, my spark hurts for you..."_

_"Your love burns within me...."_

_"It burns! It burns! It burns! It burns!"_

_"It burns! It burns! It burns! It burns!"_

Then, as their vents sucked down deep intakes of air, they cried out in their keys. Megatron began it, leading in a deep and raspy tone that shook the ground beneath them. Optimus followed, hitting his respective high note that he'd once loved so much, and was coming to love again. Lifting the mic to sing into it, his optics fell closed and his voice rang out like a powerful bell among the other instruments.

_"Whoa oh!"_

_"Ohhh!"_

_"Whoa oh!"_

_"Ohhh!"_

He came back down, their optics met once more, and they sang together one last time.

_"Your love burns within me...."_

_"With fire and fury."_

_"With fire and fury. Whoa oh"_

Everything ceased, Soundwave's keyboard played into silence, and for one moment the whole world had gone still. When that moment ended, the world around them went up in a cascade of screams.

Optimus and Megatron slowly returned from the place beyond reality this duet had brought them to, and they simultaneously looked out from the stage. They'd blown their audience away. They'd blown _themselves_ away. Clearly, Megatron's first love song was very much approved.

"Thank you, we're glad you enjoyed that."

Megatron said breathlessly, raising the mic in the air in silent triumph and eliciting one more roar from their audience. Optimus looked over at his duet partner, sighed shortly, and raised the mic back to his intake.

"But we know you're not here just to listen to a love song."

The cheers suddenly became higher pitched, and the grey mech beside him turned to raise a brow plate at him. Optimus smirked in return, walking forward to place his microphone in its stand and looked at the audience with instantly feral optics.

"... Who's ready to rock?"

Behind them, sinister grins started with the guitarists. It spread like a virus to the band drummers, the back-up singers, and the keyboard specialist next to the young yellow guitarist. They all knew what was coming next, and though it might bring their bands to the very end of their careers tonight, this was going to be fun.

Megatron's optics lit with comprehension, he followed the other's actions, and his smirk that bared his sharp denta became all too evil to match his partner.

"Let's tear this Festival down."

Suddenly, Knockout strikes his electric guitar with feverance, pounding out the beat of a new song that makes the audience shriek. He sets the rhythm, charges with the melody, and the Autobot guitarists strike with him. They come together with booming sound, followed by the bash of the drummers above them all. The audience has already thrown their servos up, thrusting them forward in reverence of the bands. In return, Megatron's servo shoots out to grab the stand, thrusting it forward over the edge before bringing it back to put the microphone to his denta.

_"I am a nation, I am a million faces_   
_formed together, made for elevation._   
_I am a soldier, I won't surrender._   
_Faith is like a fire that never burns to embers."_

Entire frame poised and ready to fight, Megatron growled the verse like a challenge, glaring out at the audience where he knew a certain elder was somewhere. This wasn't his song, nor was it just a song, this was so much more... So let him think what he might about this one, the Kaonian would defend it with every last ounce of his being.

_"Who's gonna stand up, who's gonna fight?"_

_"The voice of the unheard!"_

_"Who's gonna break these chains and lies?"_

_"Love is the answer!"_

Starscream jumped into the verse, barking each question quickly as the Decepticon lead singer followed in beat with him. Then, Optimus grasped his own stand, yanking it towards him roughly.

_"I gotta speak it, believe it, that's how I feel inside!"_

_"I... can't... sit here quiet!"_

_"... I... can't sit here quiet!"_

The lead singers echoed each other in synchronized timing before Optimus' powerful voice rung out to enchant their audience.

_"You can take my spark, you can take my breath,_   
_When you pry it from my cold, dead chest!"_

Optimus glanced coldly at the side of the stage, where he knew a certain agent was watching. Then, he stared down the audience as he snarled the last three words, catching all off guard, until both bands elevated and electrified the stage with sound.

_"This is how we rise up!_   
_Heavy as a hurricane, louder than a freight train!_   
_This is how we rise up!_   
_Spark is beating faster, feels like thunder!"_

_"This is how we rise up!_   
_Heavy as a hurricane, louder than a freight train!_   
_This is how we rise up!_   
_Spark is beating faster, feels like thunder!"_

Standing together against the onslaught of screams shooting from their audience, Megatron and Optimus bellowed the chorus together, followed by their back-up singers.

_"Magic, static, call me a fanatic_   
_It's our world, they can never have it!_   
_This is how we rise up!_   
_It's our resistance, you can't resist us!"_

_"Magic, static, call me a fanatic_   
_It's our world, they can never have it!_   
_This is how we rise up!_   
_It's our resistance, you can't resist us!"_

The last verse Starscream growled with his lead singer, bringing forth a devastating effect of rebellion. Then they all ceased, letting Knockout's guitar rock the stage before quieting to make way for Soundwave's keys.

_"Up, up, up, up, up_   
_We're rising up, up, up, up, up!"_

_"The voice of the unheard!"_

Megatron began in normal, almost quiet vocal range, slowly and steadily raising his free servo above his helm, and the audience repeated his actions. Amidst his recurrent lyrics, Optimus echoed his own lyric, putting fourth what he wanted the audience to hear. Perhaps this time, they would.

_"Rising up, up, up, up, up_   
_We're rising up, up, up, up, up."_

_"Love is the answer!"_

The lead singers glanced at each other, sharing the smallest and nearly unrecognizable grin. So much to say, so much to know, and so much they couldn't project was put into the words that drifted along their harmonized tune.

_"Rising up, up, up, up, up  
_ _We're rising up, up, up, up, up."_

_"Love is the answer!"_

Suddenly, the Kaonian whipped to face their audience, growling to break the spell they'd put them all under.

_"This is how we rise up! It's our resistance, you can't resist us!"_

A crash of instruments all at once, and both bands were united under one chorus.

_"This is how we rise up!"_

_"Heavy as a hurricane, louder than a freight train!"_

_"Heavy as a hurricane, louder than a freight train!"_

Like a supernova, the entire stage was an explosion of sound, light, and power. Gathered and expelling around their lead singers like they were the center of the star, each band member put everything they'd ever had into the beat, melody, and rhythm of the song. It was utter chaos. It was complete unity. It was everything a rock and roll fan ever dreamed of in a concert. It was wild and spark-blowing freedom.

_"This is how we rise up!"_

_"Spark is beating faster, feels like thunder!"_

_"Spark is beating faster, feels like thunder!"_

Caught in the middle of the chaos, the lead singers projected their message and sang as if there would be no tomorrow. This is what they'd fought for. This was the purpose they'd longed to find when they began in an enormous city and a worn-down region. Their sparks spun in elation, happier then they had been in eons to take on whatever Cybertron had in store for them. Let it come; they were finally together, and they ready.

_"Magic, static, call me a fanatic!_   
_It's our world, they can never have it!_   
_This is how we rise up!_   
_It's our resistance, you can't resist us!"_

_"Magic, static, call me a fanatic!_   
_It's our world, they can never have it!_   
_This is how we rise up!_   
_It's our resistance, you can't resist us!"_

_"You can't resist us!"_

_"You can't resist us!"_

Starscream and Ratchet all but screamed the last line, synchronized with their leads. And as Knockout lead the guitars into the final stretch, Optimus and Megatron threw themselves to the edge of the stage, sliding on their knees to the edge and roaring out at the audience with feral optics.

_"YOU CAN'T RESIST US!"_

_"YOU CAN'T RESIST US!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First song sung by Optimus and Megatron quoted "Fire and Fury" by Skillet  
> Second song sung by Optimus and Megatron quoted "The Resistance" by Skillet


	19. Chapter 19

For a moment, everything was silent. It was the longest moment any of the bands' members would ever remember.

But then that moment ended, and the next one brought electrified anarchy.

Their crowd was a cacophony of cheers, applause, and all out shrieks of excitement. Optimus' chest plates heaved from part exertion, part exhilaration and he stared out at the many thousands of bots before the stage in near disbelief. When he shifted to look at his partner, Megatron wore the same expression as his own chest plates shuddered lightly. There were a lot of reactions they'd been expecting at the end, but _this_ had not been one of them. Not that it wasn't greatly welcomed by them or the others. They looked around mutely as their bands ran, stumbled, and jumped to the edge of the stage to revel in the hard-fought approval.

Many more moments passed like this. Until finally, light from bright plates flickered from the side of the stage. Alpha Trion appeared from the steps leading off stage with microphone in servo, eliciting a longer cacophony and the instrumental members of the Autobot and Decepticon bands to gape and back away from the edge of the stage. Megatron and Optimus stared at the old mech, a similar amount of unease and steeled confidence rising in both their sparks, and rising to their peds as he walked over to stand beside them. They'd been expecting the put down at the end, but that did not mean they were ready for it.

_Well, it here comes..._

"... I think that was the best fragging performance that I've ever seen in my long life cycles. What do you think Praxus?"

_Wait, what?_

Both lead singers recycled their optics against the onslaught of screams that spoke lengths of the audience's agreement. Optimus glanced at the old rockstar with a raised brow plate, whom gave him a quick wink in return before turning back to the audience.

"These eons have brought many aspects of rock and roll to my spark... But this is the first duet in rock and roll that I've ever had the great pleasure to witness. I believe they've just made history!"

Another onslaught of sound slammed the stage, and all the bands could do was stare dumbly at their judge. Alpha Trion held up a servo to quiet the audience, and he cocked a hip rather elegantly when they did.

"... Now, I know I'm not supposed to do this as a judge. But if our finalists can shatter the rules and put us all in a tail spin of history in the making, then I can bend a few myself."

He glanced over at the younger singers beside him, a smirk growing on his faceplates.

"Autobots, Decepticons, how about both of you wins the World Tour?"

Suddenly, the sounds of the audience didn't matter.

Optimus gasped audibly in shock as Megatron stuttered a near delirious laugh, the world around them both blurring as their vents ceased and coughed.

_That_ response to their performance, from _Alpha Trion_ , was _definitely_ not expected. They'd been expecting ridicule and punishment. What they got was the world tour, together...

The shock wore off, and the Autobot lead singer was bombarded by his ecstatic band, effectively knocking him to the ground in the heap of his laughing and crying family. Megatron was bombarded next, and Alpha Trion had to back out of the way with a laugh as Soundwave ambushed him with a strut-crushing hug from behind and Laserbeak flew around them both. The Decepticons shouted in victory, matched in intensity by the fields swirling and tangled with emotion from the Autobots.

Throwing his brother off with a laugh, the grey mech's attention turned to the pile of Autobots. At the bottom, a specific red and blue mech was looking right back at him. Brushing past his band members as the other clambered to his peds, Optimus and Megatron sprinted across the stage to meet in the middle with a clang. The Iaconian wrapped his arm struts around the other tightly as he was raised off his peds and spun in too many circles to count, and their fields wrapped into one another like pieces of a puzzle. Emotions of pure happiness and something more washed through the both of them, even when they stopped spinning. Even when the Prime was set back down. Even when their bands collaborated around them to congratulate each other. Even when their helms met and the world came into focus around them once again.

***

When the Autobot and Decepticon bands left the stage in one big group, headed by their lead singers whom stayed side by side with intertwined servos, their state of euphoria was abruptly and rudely interrupted.

"I knew you would come back!"

"I knew you would come back!"

Megatron and Optimus halted when they were met by their ex-agents, running up to the both of them with cheerful facades.

"You're one pit of a comedian, Prime! You nearly had me convinced you were actually done!"

Fowler exclaimed, gestured wildly with his servos. Optimus' expression fell and he watched the agent with cold optics, field curling inward. Megatron's servo tightened around his.

"He _is_ done. With _you_. As am I with you, Silas."

Megatron barked. The ex-agent for the Decepticons only laughed at that, crossing his arm struts over his chest plates.

"Nonsense, Megatron. You've got a world tour I need to plan, and the honor of Kaon still hanging in the balance. We've got work to do, and whether you like it or not, you need me."

A low growl rose from his chest. But before he could respond, it was Megatron's turn to be interrupted.

"I believe Megatron has made his point clear. He does not need you anymore, Agent Silas; just as Optimus does not need Agent Fowler anymore."

Alpha Trion walked into the backstage area from the stage, catching all occupants of the room off guard. Again. Striding towards the lead singers, he came to stand beside the two bands with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the agents.

"I had my suspicions about you, Agent Fowler. This cycle, Megatron proved them correct, and I see now I should've acted upon them earlier. As for you, Agent Silas, you have proved yourself no better."

Both agent bots glared at the old mech indignantly as he point at them accusingly. Megatron and Optimus could only exchange an expression as they watched the scene unfold. Alpha Trion suddenly stepped forward, towering over both agents.

"Therefore, as the official judge of the rock and roll competition, and a founder of this music festival; I am kicking both of you out of this event. If you do not vacate the grounds in the next five kliks, I will call Praxus enforcers and have you arrested for the physical and mental abuse of your clients. _GET OUT_."

Fowler and Silas flinched at the old mech's bellow as Alpha Trion pointed a servo at the exit behind them. Then both of their expressions settled into a harsh glare at the old mech, the lead singers, and the rest of their bands. Their glares were met head on by the group, and Silas was the first to retreat. Fowler's optics promised death as he stared at the Prime, but this time Optimus did not submit under it. Instead his armor flared and his field whipped out dangerously at the mech. It was enough to finally make the agent retreat.

Only when the small silver bot's backplates were out of view did the Prime's armor smooth out. Alpha Trion glanced back as Optimus closed his optics and breathed a long sigh of relief. The encounter was over. Megatron's thumb stroked over the back of his servo before he looked up at the elder.

"You have punctual timing, Alpha Trion. We owe you our thanks."

Alpha Trion held up a servo and shook his helm, smiling faintly.

"Your gratitude is not needed, Megatron. In fact, I owe you an apology."

The elder sighed, reaching to put a servo on the Kaonian's shoulder strut.

"I thought so lowly of your work that I did not see how true to rock and roll it was... The both of you proved that to me, this cycle. You are a true artist, my friend. You and Optimus. I hope you can find it in your spark to forgive me."

Glancing sideways, the Kaonian found his Iaconian companion held a hopeful glint in his optics, accompanied with a small smile. He found that like Ratchet, he couldn't withstand against it, and was soon sharing the smile. Megatron turned back to the elder.

"We are both guilty of infantile assumptions, Alpha Trion. Consider yourself, forgiven."

The grey mech held out a servo, which minutely surprised the elder, but after a moment he took it and they shook once.

"Um, Optimus?"

Immediately, all three of them shifted their attention to the young black and yellow autobot beside them, accompanied by Soundwave.

"What is it, Bumblebee?"

The guitarist chuckled nervously as he looked towards the exit, doorwings fluttering.

"We're all going on the world tour... But we've never planned any performances that big before. Agent Fowler always did that."

Soundwave nodded beside him.

"Bumblebee: makes a valid point. Autobot and Decepticon bands: without respective agents. Probability of successfully planning concerts: low without aid."

_Scrap._

Both lead singers fought a groan at the blatant fact now staring them in the faceplates. It was just one problem after another. Alpha Trion hummed, grasping his bearded chin in thought.

"Indeed, he makes a point. And I will admit, I am no agent myself, so I cannot aid in that respect. But I do know a lot of mecha. I'll make some calls for you both, and we will find an agent worthy of your success and talent."

_Great, a new agent. Who the pit will it be this time?_

Megatron's optics flicked to the ground as his processor ran through mecha he knew already. None of them were good choices. And from the look on Optimus' faceplates, neither were any he knew. After a few kliks though, a certain mech he'd recently met popped up. The more he thought of him, the more a smile grew on his faceplates. Finally, he squeezed Optimus' servo, eliciting his attention.

"I believe we might know one already. What do you think, _Orion?"_

_What?_

At first, Optimus was greatly confused. What did Megatron mean? And why was he using his alias now of all times? _Wait a klik._ His alias... The Prime's optics lightened and blew wide as he understood. A good choice, indeed, but wasn't it the last day of the Festival? His spark halted.

"It's the last day of the Festival, I hope he hasn't left yet!"

_Scrap!_

The Kaonian's optics widened, and he glanced towards the exit.

"Then we mustn't waste anymore time!"

Bumblebee, Soundwave, and Alpha Trion could only stumble out of the way as the lead singers suddenly jumped into a sprint towards the exit. Ratchet shouted at them as they left.

"Where in the Pit are you two going?!"

"We'll be back soon, Ratchet!"

Optimus shouted over his shoulder at the doc-bot. Then they were gone.

***

Tents were falling down all around them, their owners folding them neatly and putting away the merchandise within them into trailers sitting next to them. Merchants and festival workers alike were weary, shown in their stooped posture as they packed and the half-sparked conversations between them. Civilians attending the Festival were taking their leave, glancing around at the sights one more time before they left the small road for the highway and took the long journey home.

The merchant's tent had been taken down, and was put away into his own trailer. Now all that was left was to finish packing the rest of the products that had not been sold, which wasn't very much. He'd made good profits over the course of the week, not to mention sold all of the Autobot and Decepticon scrap he'd brought. Thoughts of the credits he'd earned made him smile. He would bring a good profit home, and from there they'd be set for a good few stellar cycles. Perhaps if he had enough, he would finally be able to take his bonded on that honeymoon trip to Crystal City they'd both been dreaming of.

"You know, I was never able to learn your designation, my friend."

Recycling his optics, the merchant turned to around from the box he was closing to find Megatron of the Decepticons and Optimus Prime of the Autobots standing there. His smile grew wider.

"Well, you never asked. But I suppose now that you have, I am Prowl of Praxus."

The merchant extended a servo, which the Kaonian shook heartily, followed by the Prime.

"We owe you our thanks, Prowl. If it wasn't for you, we would've never truly met. Nor become as... close as we have."

Optimus stated, voice becoming a bit shy in the end but holding no less meaning in the tone. Megatron glanced over and quirked his lip plate at the other, bumping their shoulder armor lightly. The Prime's optics brightened and then lowered timidly, but one could see the grin that couldn't be helped. Prowl's spark pulsed at the interaction, being reminded of his own bonded.

"It was an honor to be of assistance, Optimus, as it was an honor to become the acquaintance of you."

"Friend."

Prowl recycled his optics at the statement, and the Prime's kind expression.

"After the incident with my ex-agent, I consider you my friend, Prowl."

The merchant's surprised expression turned humbled and accepting, and he nodded at the Autobot lead singer for the gesture. Then, he focused on the both of them.

"I heard the announcement from Alpha Trion. Congratulations to both of you for winning the world tour."

Megatron raised a brow plate and he smirked.

"Well, we can't take all the credit. A _certain bot_ gave us the duet idea."

Prowl shared the smirk when the Kaonian winked, and they all shared a quick laugh.

"Anyway, my friends, I'm sure you have much to do with your world tour coming up, especially with finding new agents. And I've got a good stretch of road ahead to get home. Traffic will be backed up a good half a solar cycle, but there's a few back roads to take out of here... I suppose this is where we part ways?"

Optimus and Megatron looked at each other, exchanging a silent conversation between optics in a matter of nanoseconds, before looking back at the merchant. Neither of them lost their hopeful smiles. It made Prowl curious.

"Actually, we were hoping for your aid once more."

The merchant tipped his helm in question as Optimus continued.

"As you previously stated, we are without agents, and will be needing another come the next few stellar cycles."

Megatron piped in, gesturing to the merchant as he spoke.

"We both admire your skills in communication and consideration with all kinds of mecha, even ourselves. We also admire your strategic thinking and creativity, as well as your calm mannerisms."

Prowl was getting an idea of where this was going, but it surprised him no less. His optics were widening in tune with each lead singer's statement.

"Therefore, it would stand to reason for us to inquire to you, if you would consider becoming a talent agent?"

Optimus asked timidly, but with no small amount of hope. The merchant glanced between the both of them with wide optics. Neither of them swayed, but he could feel the nervousness building in their magnetic fields. After a few moments to recycle his optics, reboot his logic circuits, and kick on his vocal box; Prowl smiled warmly at the both of them.

"Well in that case, you're in luck that I received academic credits in communication and strategic management."

Both lead singer's fields swapped nervousness immediately for excitement. Megatron and Optimus' optics widened and they shared another silent conversation before looking back at him again.

"Therefore, you accept?"

The Kaonian asked. Prowl chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest plates.

"I am only one bot, I cannot manage two bands... However, I believe my bonded, Jazz, might be interested in assisting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know the 'technical' ending sucked... But there is one more chapter coming, I promise! It's currently about two thirds the way done, so bear with me!


	20. Epilogue: Five Ano Cycles Later

Whoever said you couldn't wear black to a bonding ceremony would choke on their words if they saw the cloak on the back of the door. It was hung without much courtesy, one point of the hood poking up from where it sat on the hook, and draped in crinkled plastic to keep it clean. Like a lot of other bonding cloaks, the edges were lined in silver glyphs that glinted when light from the window hit them. Unlike other bonding cloaks, these glyphs were ancient Kaonian, a strange language that many considered illiterate and sometimes impossible to decipher. In a way, that's what made them important when they _could_ be translated: a message to the few that would spread to the many.

After all he'd seen of Cybertron in such short time and all he'd been through in his career, Optimus could still say, in complete honesty, that he was surprised he was going through with this. The nightmares, which had come to lay dormant, returned with a vengeance the night cycle his partner asked him to bond. The Prime was truly joyful about it, they'd reached a point in their relationship that told them they were ready. But that didn't stop the memory files from resurfacing. Not much could be done about them, which in turn led to his lack of recharge. There had been solar cycles mere weeks after their second world tour that he was found offline in the nearest chair or running into walls as if he were overcharged. Megatron was near helpless in the beginning, but that did not stop him from worrying. As time progressed, he learned to wake when his partner moved in berth. From there, it was slow improvement.

During the light of the day, he was fine, as long as distraction was present. Optimus threw himself into writing the Autobot's next album. When he couldn't work, Megatron was present, and he relished in the safety of the Kaonian's arms. Sometimes literally. During their first world tour when they'd gone to one of the cities on the edge of the Sea of Rust, two civilian bots had sneaked backstage with less than pleasurable intentions. Why? Because like a lot of mecha on Cybertron, they despised rock and roll and felt it an insult. Sure, Optimus expected protesters of both bands, it was a given. What he did _not_ expect was to be caught in a dressing room alone with two homicidal, armed mecha. Thankfully, Megatron had been just down the hallway and heard the commotion. The Kaonian proceeded to break down the door, roar loud enough for the audience a floor above them to hear, grab each mecha by the weapons they held, and threw them to the other side of the room like a Frisbee. Such a force knocked them out cold. The law enforcers were careful to keep their distance from Megatron and the Prime he held defensively.

He'd never seen Ultra Magnus when he'd faced a fight as an enforcer, but Optimus felt he could honestly conclude that Megatron was a lot more dangerous when in comparison.

"... Optimus? Hello? Cybertron to Optimus?"

A light-toned voice brushed over his audials, accompanied by a white servo tipped by sharp digits waved in front of his faceplates, jolting him from thought. He recycled his optics, realizing he'd been staring at his cloak for half a groon. Knockout and Arcee stood at his sides, the femme holding a wax cloth and the mech armed with a buffer. The Decepticon gave a short huff, cocking a hip and putting a fist on it, but his smile was understanding.

"Sweet Rims, I can't buff your dorsal plating if you don't lift it. You've got crevices for scratches in that area."

"That's exaggerating it a bit, Knockout, don't you think?"

Arcee chided, monotone creeping into her voice. The cherry red guitarist answered her with a 'pfft' as he waved the buffer dramatically.

"All scratches in the paint job can become crevices if you let them! It takes time and precision to buff them out properly, especially for a bonding ceremony!"

The Decepticon's melodrama brought a chuckle from the Prime as he and Arcee exchanged expressions. But without argument, he flared his backplating, and Knockout nodded approvingly before strutting around him and setting to work.

"But seriously, Optimus, are you alright? You've been quiet since we began three groons ago."

Arcee stayed where she was in front of him, concern glinting in her optics. He shook his helm at her worry.

"I am fine, Arcee. Overthinking, I suppose."

" _I'll_ be the judge of that!"

A loud voice suddenly called from the other side of the door, making all three bots in the room jump and the buffer almost go flying. Then the tone of the voice registered, and Optimus sighed with a tired smile.

"You may come in, Ratchet."

The door proceeded to open, and in entered the doc-bot, plating polished and waxed. Coming to stand in front of the seated Prime, he crossed his arms and raised a brow plate at the other. But the knowing smile thwarted his effort to be too condescending.

"You'd better not start asking for any high grade, Optimus. You may be a rockstar. But Primus forbid, I will not see you overcharged at your own bonding ceremony!"

Optimus chuckled again, his optics glinting a bit mischievously at the doc-bot.

"Must I remind you not to use the creator's name in vain, Ratchet? The last time you did that, my partner decided to get in the way of a speeding Stunticon and was late to the ceremony."

Ratchet laughed as Knockout's buffer ceased, and he peeked around the Prime's shoulder to stare at them both with wide optics.

" _That's_ what happened?? Ouch, that's rough, Sweet Rims."

The red Decepticon was sympathetic, but Optimus waved it off quickly.

"It is alright Knockout. The past cannot be changed... I've come to find sanctuary in the fact that Megatron is a flight mode."

Knockout smirked at that and shrugged, going back to the dorsal plating he was nearly complete with.

"And he _will_ be here. I don't believe he's even left the tavern yet this cycle."

Optimus glanced back up at his friend who winked. Something in his spark suddenly lifted and uncurled at the statement, and he wouldn't deny the amount of relief that came from it. Ratchet's expression had softened, noticing that the Prime hadn't even flinched when he'd mentioned Ultra Magnus. It was a good sign. After all these stellar cycles, perhaps this cycle would be the one he would finally be allowed to let go of the past and heal the rest of the way. And though he would never approve of Megatron the way he had of Magnus, he had to admit, the Kaonian made Optimus just as happy if not more. They fit together like a spark to it's casing.

Suddenly, Knockout and Arcee pulled away, stepping back and nodding to themselves.

"Hmm, your plating is rather eloquent now, if I do say so myself."

Optimus looked down at himself, finding his plating and armor so well shined he could look upon his own reflection on his arm strut.

"Your assistance is greatly appreciated. Thank you."

He nodded to the mech and femme, who nodded in return. Ratchet's optics scanned over him once before nodding to himself and retracing his steps to the door, plucking the cloak off the hook. When the doc-bot returned, Optimus stood and bowed low enough for him to drape it over his shoulders and bring the pendant to click in the middle of his chest plates. Like a white cloak both bots remembered faintly from eons ago, this one reached to his ankle joints. However, instead of shining and reflecting in the sun, it glimmered like the coming night. The other three bots in the room stepped back as he turned to see himself in a full length mirror. Everything about this felt different than before, and perhaps that was because it would be. They would bond in the small town within the borders of Praxus they first met, there would be no Temple. Their priest came from the region's border, he was of no high power. There would be no big crowd to witness the event, only their bands and their closest friends, which wasn't many.

After everything he'd gone through to get to this cycle, perhaps it didn't have to be done any other way. Reality was a glitch, but it had it's moments, and it changed him. This is who he was, who he would forever be, and he wouldn't change the reflection staring back at him.

A rap at the door caught everyone's attention.

"How much you want to bet it's the oh so glorious leader of my band?"

Knockout drawled in humorous exasperation, making Arcee chuckle as she walked forward to get the door.

"My bet's off. The chances are in your favor."

"Wait--he's here?!"

Optimus blurted in surprise, prompting Ratchet's optics to narrow and a small smirk to grow.

"I _did_ say he never left the tavern."

"Oh Primus..."

The doc-bot watched as the Prime yanked his hood over his helm and down over his faceplates, his antennae creating two points at the top of the fabric pulled taunt. It was a gesture that reminded him fondly of Orion Pax whenever he was nervous or embarrassed. Or both. This time it was definitely both.

"You look incredible, Optimus, and you know he'll love it. Hiding's not going to change that."

"Batten down the hatches, guys, I'm letting him in."

Arcee warned before letting the door open. Sure enough as she stepped aside, the tall grey mech was the first to enter. He was followed by Breakdown, whom waved at his own bonded when their optics met. Megatron had only taken three steps before halting when his optics fell on his bonded-to-be, noticing his drawn in posture as he all but hid in the elegant cloak he wore. Sighing, he glanced at the doc-bot.

"You didn't tell him I was coming, did you?"

Ratchet shrugged innocently. His facial expression was quick to betray that he was anything but.

"No, I did. About three nanoseconds ago."

Optimus' field lashed out and smacked against the doc-bot's, the only portrayal of emotion from his still frame. Ratchet withheld a laugh, but his shoulders shook minutely as he turned to the others.

"Alright, come on. Let's give them some privacy and head downstairs."

Breakdown nodded immediately, taking his bonded's servo and leading him out of the room, eliciting the red Decepticon's smile as their fields wrapped together. Arcee was nudged out of the room by the doc-bot, still a bit worried about her friend. But Ratchet was calm, and he winked at the Kaonian still in the room before he closed the door after them.

Megatron shook his helm at the old bot with a roll of his optics. Then, he slowly approached the cloaked figure, taking each moment in between to admire how he looked.

"Where are you, my Prime?"

After a moment, as Optimus felt the other's field reach closer and touch his own, he let one of his servos lift enough to expose an optic. He found charming red optics, gentle and strong, brightening as they watched him.

"There you are."

He crooned, reaching clawed servos up to wrap around the other's, pulling them away from his faceplates. The hood slowly sprung back into place above his crest, but Megatron pulled it all the way back, leaving it to fall onto the other's back and exposing his partner's helm. He smiled.

"Have I ever told you how stunningly handsome you look in black?"

Optimus snickered lightly, averting his optics at the compliment but not pulling away.

"I've lost count of how many times you've said so, Megatron."

The Kaonian hummed, crooning again to gain his attention.

"I don't believe that many would ever be enough."

Then he dipped his helm, capturing the other's lip plates in a kiss. Optimus sighed, optics flickering closed and sliding his servos up and around the other's neck armor to hold tight, feeling the edge of a red Kaonian cape draped by pendants to the other's shoulder blades. Megatron's servos stroked under the black cloak and at his sides, suddenly dipping lower to run along the other's thighs and wrap around them. The Prime gasped into the kiss when he was lifted clear off the ground and walked back against the nearest wall, but was quick to wrap his leg struts around the other's hips for leverage. Though their actions betrayed the need to be closer, their kiss was slow and steady, in no rush to go anywhere.

"You're... going to... ruin the cloak... and scratch my paint... if you push me any harder into the wall."

Optimus gasped in between the kiss, causing a deep chuckle to roll from deep in the other's chest against his face. The warm vent of air tickled his silver plating.

"Forgive me if I can't help myself... Perhaps we should just skip the ceremony all together and go straight to the honeymoon phase."

Megatron rasped, pressing kisses and near scraping his sharp denta along the other's neck cables. His low tone went straight to the other's spark, causing it to jump in it's casing and buzz with energy as he tipped his helm to side and invited more of those soft touches.

"Don't tempt me, Tron... You're grating at my resolve to go through with this, I promised Ratchet I would."

This time, the Kaonian snickered into the area between his neck and shoulder armor.

"Yes, because I'm sure if we did not show up, he would be the first to drag us down there by our peds."

They both laughed, throwing their helms back as their frames shook with it. Come the Pit or the highway, Megatron always found a way for both of them to laugh. It was great during the long trips or after especially long concerts when he could crack a joke and have everyone else in hysterics. Except Starscream, the seeker was always in a bad mood when it came to Megatron or Optimus.

Laughter subsiding, Optimus let his helm fall back against the wall with a thunk, optics calm and content as they met his partner. Megatron's claws stroked his thigh strut as he spoke.

"Well then, I suppose we should be off... Though the question is; do you think I could get away with carrying you like this down the aisle?"

Optimus raised a brow plate at his mate's smirk, and moved his ped just enough to whack the other's aft and elicit a wince.

"Put me down, you fragger."

Sighing, the Kaonian released his partner and stepped back to let him regain his bearings.

"You are evil, Optimus Prime."

Said mech hummed as he brushed off the back of his cloak.

"And I take great pride in it. Shall we?"

Megatron watched as the Prime strode out of the room, pausing to look at him with an expression of _I'm not waiting for you_. A small smile made it's way to his lip plates as he followed. What would he do without this bot?

***

_"I don't want to miss one smile!_

_I don't want to miss one kiss!_

_Well, I just want to be with you,_

_Right here with you, just like this!"_

Night had brought darkness, and it brought music. The tavern's lights were set down low, but the air vibrated with the sound of the speakers on it's small stage. On the door out front hung the sign: Closed for event. Inside, a small crowd of mechs and femmes slow danced in pairs on the dance floor. Others sat at the bar watching Alpha Trion perform, his own band behind him as he sang an old but not so rusty favorite of the newly bonded couple.

_"I just want to hold you close!_

_I feel your spark so close to mine!_

_And just stay in this moment_

_For the rest of time! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!"_

As the old rock singer's voice shot up at the end of the lyric, bots like Ratchet and Starscream whooped and whistled, raising their glass of high grade to him. Couples like Knockout and Breakdown, Cliffjumper and Arcee, Bulkhead and Wheeljack, and Bumblebee and Soundwave watched the legend from their places on the floor. One thing was for certain to them; Golden Age singers weren't so bad after all. Then there was Prowl and Jazz, who watched a certain couple in the back in their own world with knowing smiles.

_"Don't wanna close my optics!_

_I don't wanna fall to recharge,_

_Cause I'd miss you, baby._

_And I don't wanna miss a thing!"_

The oblivious, and tallest couple in the back of the room swayed to their own slow beat. Cape and cloak brushed against one another as their frames stayed together like magnets. Blissful, raw emotions passed back and fourth through their fields like it did in their new bond. No words had been passed between them since the beginning of the ceremony many groons before, no words needed to. They would never come close to the meaning of this moment. It was _felt_ , not said.

_"Cause even when I dream of you,_

_The sweetest dream would never do!_

_I'd still miss you, baby_

_And I don't want to miss a thing!"_

Alpha Trion's voice shot up once again as he screamed the words of the lyric, exaggerating them as he reveled in performing for the first time in ages. And when he ended, his band led him out with a grand finale, bashing the notes of their instruments before ceasing at once. The room was filled with the small crowd's applause and cheers and the old mech and his band bowed. Then, he lifted the microphone to his intake.

"Not too bad for an old bot, wouldn't you say?"

Bots around the room laughed, and Alpha Trion's optics flickered towards the back of the dark room, and he smiled as he pointed towards them.

"You think they listened to any portion of the song or are still on cloud 9?"

The laughter became louder, and this time the tall couple stopped to turn and look at the stage. The autobot lead singer turned in his bonded's arms to face the stage completely, leaning his back against the other's chest plates. In turn, the Decepticon's arms wrapped around him tighter and he nuzzled the side of the other's helm, purring loud enough for others to hear. Alpha Trion watched as the Autobot's arms held onto the other's arm struts around his chest, and the gesture warmed his spark. _Young love._

"Well, now that I have your attention, it's about time I congratulated you both in your bonding. I also wish to congratulate you on your third world tour coming up in a few stellar cycles, well done my friends."

Around them the small audience cheered, turning towards the back and clapping. Optimus ducked his helm at the attention while Megatron stood taller, not afraid to show his pride in the accomplishment.

"Your work is without a doubt the best Cybertron has seen in a long time. And though there are still many who oppose rock and roll, there are those who've seen what we do and came to love it because of you. Your union is an inspirational and a joyful one that will be remembered for eons to come. Therefore, I wish you both the best, and thanks for letting me be apart of this event so sacred to you. Rock on!"

"Rock on!!"

Everyone shouted back, and Optimus and Megatron whispered it back. Alpha Trion paused before he left the stage.

"Speaking of you, isn't it your turn to get up here and sing?"

He teased. The audience in the room 'oohed' at the both of them, and Alpha Trion winked. Optimus shifted in his bonded's arms to look at him, and they exchanged expressions. But after their moment of silence, Megatron took the Prime's servo and led him up to the stage as the band took their leave. Both of them disappeared behind the backstage curtain for a few kliks. When they returned, the Prime had two chairs in servo, and Megatron had his old guitar. Soundwave played a loud recording of a cat-calling whistle, bringing a few snickers from the others around him. Megatron narrowed his optics and smirked at the general direction he knew the keyboard specialist was. The couple sat in their respective chairs, and while Megatron adjusted a microphone stand to his new height, Optimus grabbed a mic down from another stand, tapping it with a digit before speaking.

"Thank you, Alpha Trion, your performance is greatly honored and appreciated. And yes, we were listening."

A few bots chuckled at the statement. Megatron, who'd adjusted the stand to his liking, leaned his elbow joint on the old guitar resting on his leg struts and spoke next.

"Since it is so demanded that we perform at our own ceremony, we did happen to collaborate a new song these past few weeks for the upcoming tour... It is still in the acoustic version. If you do not appreciate that fact, deal with it. We've been busy."

It was Optimus' turn to smirk, glancing at his bonded before turning back to their audience.

"He's a bit nervous about playing his guitar in front of others, don't hold it against him."

Megatron looked up to level a deadpanned expression at his bonded, and everyone laughed. Optimus crossed one leg strut over the other and stared back at the Kaonian innocently. Megatron grumbled, but the Iaconian could see the spark of amusement in his optics.

"I bonded with an evil being... Anyway, this one's called 'Five Hundred Miles,' we hope you enjoy it."

A few bots clapped, and the Kaonian began to strum. He looked up at his bonded and they watched each other, tapping out the beat by quiet peds before Optimus lifted the mic to sing.

_"When I wake up,_  
_Well I know I'm gonna be,_  
_I'm gonna be the one,_  
_who wakes up next to you."_

_"... I know I'm gonna be,_  
_I'm gonna be the one..."_

Megatron's voice glided in the middle of the lyric, bringing his bonded's only just higher octave into balance with his own. And when his bonded ceased, he began.

_"And when I go out,_  
_Well I know I'm gonna be,_  
_I'm gonna be the one,_  
_who goes along with you."_

_"... I know I'm gonna be,_  
_I'm gonna be the one..."_

This time, Optimus picked up in the middle, bringing the audience's attention to how the couple's voices revolved around each other. At the next lyric, they glanced at each other and then started simultaneously.

_"If I get drunk,_  
_Well I know I'm gonna be,_  
_I'm gonna be the one,_  
_who gets drunk next to you."_

_"If I get drunk,_  
_Well I know I'm gonna be,_  
_I'm gonna be the one,_  
_who gets drunk next to you."_

When they ceased, Megatron picked up the next lyric first.

_"And when I'm dreaming,"_

_"When I'm dreaming,"_

_"I know I'm gonna dream,_  
_I'm gonna dream about_  
_the times when I'm with you."_

_"... I know I'm gonna dream about_  
_the times when I'm with you."_

Like the other two popular duets they regularly performed, they took turns and wrapped around each other like the two forces of an atom. The couple brought elements of everything they'd learned from each other into one song. They paused, and Megatron strummed a few beats louder, until both of their peds began to tap a beat for everyone to hear.

_"And I would walk five hundred miles,_  
_And I would walk five hundred more,_  
_just to be the one who walked a thousand miles_  
_to fall down at your door."_

_"And I would walk five hundred miles,_  
_And I would walk five hundred more,_  
_just to be the one who walked a thousand miles_  
_to fall down at your door."_

Their voices came together in one beautiful harmony, and a few bots in their audience whooped at their chorus. What they could achieve on their own was grand, but what they could achieve together at this point was incredible, no matter if it was acoustic and simple, or at the strength of electric guitars.

_"Da lat da... Da lat da!_  
_To love... To love... To love... To love!"_

_"... Da lat da... Da lat da!_  
_... To love... To love... To love! To love!"_

Back and fourth, they played at their notes, sharing a small smile as it turned into something of a game until they ended together on the higher note. Then after a few beats, Megatron started the next verse.

_"And when I'm working,_  
_Well I know I'm gonna be,_  
_I'm gonna be the one,_  
_who's working hard for you."_

_"... I know I'm gonna be,_  
_I'm gonna be the one,_  
_who's working hard for you."_

The cycle shifted, and Optimus began again.

_"And when the money_  
_comes in for the work I do_  
_I'll pass every single credit onto you."_

_"... Comes in for the work I do,_  
_I'll pass every single credit onto you."_

Megatron picked up where his bonded left off, smiling at his newly bonded partner with the meaning of the lyrics to come. He pulsed the love he felt for the Prime over their bond.

_"And when I come home,"_

_"When I come home,"_

_"I know I'm gonna be,_  
_I'm gonna be the one,_  
_who comes back home to you."_

_"... I know I'm gonna be the one,_  
_who comes back home to you."_

Optimus couldn't help his own smile, pulsing his own love in return as the grey mech led the way into the next lyric and he followed.

_"And if I grow!"_

_"If I grow!"_

_"I know I'm gonna be,_  
_I'm gonna be the one_  
_who's growing old with you!"_

_"... I'm gonna be the one_  
_who's growing old with you!"_

They paused, Megatron strummed even louder, and they joined together in the high duet of the chorus, sparks beating together in unison.

_"And I would walk five hundred miles!_  
_And I would walk five hundred more!_  
_just to be the one who walked a thousand miles_  
_to fall down at your door!"_

_"And I would walk five hundred miles!_  
_And I would walk five hundred more!_  
_just to be the one who walked a thousand miles_  
_to fall down at your door!"_

_"Da lat da... Da lat da!_  
_To love... To love... To love... To love!"_

_"... Da lat da... Da lat da!_  
_... To love... To love... To love! To love!"_

The melody of the old and beaten guitar wrapped around them, letting them fall into the music's final stretch. The Kaonian strummed just a few more keys as their peds tapped out just a few more beats. Then, Optimus began their cycle one more time.

_"And I would walk five hundred miles..."_

_"And I would walk,"_

_"Five hundred more."_

_"Five hundred more."_

Ending on their respective notes, they stared at no other except each other. Their small audience applauded cheerfully, no less than impressed and no doubt moved by their message to each other. Optimus suddenly ducked his helm away from the bots below them. His bonded leaned towards him and grasped his leg strut, concern dripping over the bond. But then Megatron saw the single drop of coolant running down silver face plates, and felt the pure joy in the other's spark. He smiled, putting down his guitar and reaching for his bonded.

"Come here, my Prime."

He whispered amidst the applause. Optimus dropped his own microphone and leaned forward into the other, burying himself into his bonded as he let a small sob go into the crook of the other's shoulder. Megatron could hear the 'awws' and coos below them as he wrapped his arms around the Prime, but they would never know how much this moment meant to the both of them. He'd heard tale that different bots processed events at different times, and it seemed that finally becoming bonded had just hit Optimus full force. Megatron knew himself, he would wake next cycle in berth next to the Prime, and it would finally hit him, and it would shake him to his core in the best way. But until then, he was happy to remain in the warm haze that was this event. He was more than willing to never let go of his partner; to reassure that nothing, not the annals of time nor the forces of Cybertron, would ever tear them apart.

_Because we are one._

When Optimus was able to collect himself a klik later, he pulled away and stood, taking the two chairs backstage where they belonged. Megatron fixed the microphones and stands they'd fiddled with, grabbed his guitar, and looked out at the others.

"Well, now that we've held up our end of the deal... who's ready to rock?"

Optimus returned while everyone else shouted their approval. The newly bonded couple exchanged a sudden smirk.

"You've heard enough of us. So please will you help us welcome the aspiring artist, whom I would like to note has great taste in what he performs, Steve the Eradicon."

The lead singers jumped off the stage as the artist from the festival came out from backstage. This time, he had a band. And he had the couple before him to thank for that. Joined by their intertwined servos, Optimus and Megatron found their way to the back once again, nodding and smiling at the bots they passed whom credited them for their performance. The curtain behind the Eradicon was pulled back and it revealed a drummer and two guitarists, whom smiled at their audience before turning to their lead singer in wait. Steve nodded twice. Then, he belted the first lyric as the guitar struck with him.

_"Get ready for the smackdown!"_

Everyone shouted and cheered as the sound of rock and roll filled the room, and they were not afraid to pound their peds and clap with the music.

Behind them all, a tall, newly bonded couple shared one more kiss, falling under the enchantment of an eternal bond and the liberation of their favorite genre of music.

_Rock on, oh song of metal and sparks... Rock on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now THIS is a better ending...  
> The song Alpha Trion sang quoted (with a few edits for the story's purpose) "I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith  
> The song Optimus and Megatron sang (with a few edits for the story's purpose) quoted "500 Miles" by Haley and Michaels  
> The song Steve the Eradicon had begun to sing (yes, I had to add him in) quoted "Smack Down" by Thousand Foot Krutch
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this! Thank you so much, and rock on!


End file.
